


As You Are

by Serenitey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitey/pseuds/Serenitey
Summary: After ‘As You Were’ Riley and Sam helicoptered off into the night leaving Buffy and Spike to implode. But what happens when The Doctor starts operating again, the Finns come back to Sunnydale and Dawn is the collateral damage?Buffy/Spike Dawn/Spike Friendship





	1. General Orders

**As You Are**  
**Chapter One: General Orders**

  
Riley Finn waited impatiently outside the General’s office. Sam had been summoned in before him with questions concerning their recent Sunnydale assignment. They had been summoned for debriefs before but never when the mission had been a success.

  
Sam exited the office, her back stiff and eyes forward. She nodded to her husband who stood and moved to take her place in the General’s office. It was a large office with basic furniture. The desk filled the space imposingly and housed 2 monitors. There were no photos, no personal items. The wall was shadowed with the ghosts of past frames. The General hadn’t replaced them with his own qualifications and honours. There were no frills to him.

  
The door closed behind him and Riley mimicked his wife’s stance; tall and broad, eyes forward.

“Finn,” the General said, gesturing for him to sit. The General, despite being in his sixties, was tall and muscular. He was bald with a thick salt and pepper beard. Glasses sat precariously on the end of his nose. He was thick and barrel shaped, exuding strength. His biceps seemed to strain against his shirt even as it sat neatly around his torso.

“Sir,” Riley intoned respectfully. He doubted the General was any less dangerous to cross now than he had been in his youth.

“There seem to be some irregularities with your recent Sunnydale assignment.” The General looked up from the report on his desk. “I understand you have multiple personal connections there.”

“Yes, sir,” Riley responded stiffly.

“The Doctor was identified as the vampire…” the General checked paperwork, “Spike? Also known as Hostile 17, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Riley answered, “He was identified and neutralized.”

“And yet our intelligence tells us that he is responsible for an Faryl attack outside Los Angeles that occurred just 12 hours ago.” His voice was deceptively calm.

Riley stared at the General, dumbfounded. “When we left Sunnydale, he was neutralized.”

“By The Slayer?”

“Yes, sir,” Riley parroted, “She was informed and left in charge of the situation.”

“She allowed Hostile 17 to live and he has restarted his operations right under her nose. Thanks to her decision 21 civilians and two of our own are dead.”

“Buffy wouldn’t-” Riley began, fumbling to her defense.

“I understand you also have a personal relationship to The Slayer?” the General enquired. “A previous romantic relationship?” Riley nodded. “Do you believe that The Slayer will eliminate the threat?”

Riley paused. “As soon as we inform her, Buffy will make sure he is no longer dealing- “

“Answer my question directly, Finn,” the General said beginning to lose patience. “Do you believe The Slayer will eliminate Hostile 17?”

Riley swallowed thickly. “No, sir, I do not. But I also don’t- “

“That is enough, Finn.”

Riley sat silently, waiting to be dismissed. The General was writing something in the file in front of him, the pen moving quickly across the page. He swiveled his chair to face the computer screen on his desk, flicking through a few screens until he found the desired information.

“Now Agent Finn,” The General said sternly, his tone brokering no argument. “Can I entrust you with the assignment to bring in Hostile 17 or does your personal connection with The Slayer preclude you?”

“No, Sir,” Riley said firmly. “My judgment is clear.”

“Good.” The General snapped the folder on his desk shut. “Then your orders are to bring Hostile 17 in for questioning if possible. Lethal force is authorized. Dismissed.”

Riley stood, saluted and left the office in a daze.

***

Dawn stumbled slightly in her borrowed heels and then strutted haughtily in hopes no one had seen. Janice was attached to her latest boyfriend by the lips and Dawn was beginning to get sick of the smacking. She didn’t even want to come out tonight, but Janice insisted that Jake and his brother were cool and could get them into bars no problem. So now she was stumbling along a dark Sunnydale street at 10.30 at night, tailing behind Janice and Jake, and Jake’s brother Mike and his new girlfriend, Fantasy. Dawn was not convinced that was her real name. Dawn had also clearly overdressed as her shirt had more material than Janice and Fantasy’s combined. Why did Buffy still let her hang out with Janice? She was clearly a bad influence. And Buffy had just believed her when Dawn said it was Taco Night! Sometimes she wondered if her sister had suffered one too many blows to the head.

Dawn stumbled again on the uneven street and let out a small, involuntary yelp. Janice detangled herself from Jake long enough to turn around to face Dawn. Fantasy and Mike also detached at the sound. Dawn flushed.

“You right?” Janice asked, her attention already being coaxed away by Jake’s arms snaking around her waist.

“Me?” Dawn squeaked. “Oh yeah fine,” she played off. “Just these shoes were not made for walking, you know. Are- are we close to the bar?”

“Totally,” Janice answered, “Right Jake.”

“Yeah, it’s around this corner,” Jake said, his bloodshot eyes looking up at Dawn with disinterest. “Buddy of mine said it’s totally cool and security is super lax. They let anyone in, don’t check IDs.”

Dawn nodded awkwardly. “Cool, cool,” she said. The quartet turned and continued up the street, disappearing around the closest corner. Why couldn’t they have just gone to The Bronze? Dawn hurried after them. That was it, first thing Monday she was making better friends.

Dawn followed the others to the bar. She looked up at the flickering neon sign and stilled. “Ah guys,” she said unsure, “This is Willy’s, it’s a demon bar.”

Mike scoffed, Jake rolled his eyes and Janice looked at her like she had just said something immensely stupid and was embarrassing her. She tended to look at her like that a lot lately.

Fantasy laughed. “Don’t be stupid. Yeah it has bit of a bad rap but demons aren’t real.”

Dawn looked at them incredulously. “Have you ever been in there?”

Janice puffed up her chest. “There’s a first time for everything. That’s why we’re all together, besides,” she said stroking Jake’s chest, “I’m sure the boys can protect us from any nasty demons.”

They laughed and walked inside. Dawn hesitated. It was Willy’s. Sure, she had never been allowed near here before, but she had heard plenty from the Scoobies and Spike about it. Buffy used to beat Willy up for information all the time and usually she only had to pretend to beat him up, so Willy couldn’t really be that bad, could he? Dawn steeled herself and pushed the door open. She ignored the weirdly sticky residue now on her hands and joined the foursome. They seemed stunned and were looking around the dingy bar stupidly. A purple demon with tentacles looked over at them and smiled. Dawn saw Janice pushing herself further into Jake’s side.

“Guys, come on,” Dawn said moving to standing front of them. “We should get out of here.”

“But we only just got here,” Mike said in what Dawn was sure to be false bravado. “Haven’t even had a drink yet.”

Dawn looked around and her eyes fell on an empty table. A half-finished beer sad flatly on the stained wood. She picked up the beer and passed it to Mike who took it dumbly. ‘There you go. One drink. You came, you drank, now let’s leave.”

***

“Read em’ and weep boys,” Spike gloated, laying his cards flat on the table. The other demons threw their cards down in disgust. All except Clem who patted him on the shoulder and congratulated him on his good hand.

Spike pulled the pot towards him; jewellery, cash, kittens and a Supermarket gift card (Clem wasn’t having a good night) making their way into Spike’s possession.

“How about one more round, boys?” Spike rubbed his hands together, “I’m feeling lucky.”

He picked up a black and white kitten. It reminded him of the ill-fated Miss Kitty Fantastico. He shrugged and placed the wriggling kitten in the pot.  
“I’m telling you boys. Tonight is my night, I can smell it.” Spike made a show of inhaling deeply, he stopped and let out a groan. He sniffed the air twice more, concentrating. “Buggering hell.” He began to scoop up his winnings, shoving them deep in his pockets. “I’m out.”

***

Janice pushed away from Jake. “God Dawn,” Janice said exasperatedly. “If I’d known you were going to be such a loser about everything we did tonight I wouldn’t have invited you.” Dawn looked at her hurt. She was about to answer when a commotion drew the group’s attention. Demons were spilling out of a back room and yelling after a black clad figure.

“Spike, you can’t just leave mid-hand!” one of them yelled.

“Watch me,” Spike spat over his shoulder. His coat billowed around him and the demons parted to let him pass.

From her position on the other side of the bar, Dawn squeezed her eyes shut and let out a pitiful groan.

“Dawn,” a familiar voice boomed. Dawn flinched and then turned quickly, plastering a grin to her face.

“Hey Spike.” She leant forward and punched him lightly on the arm. “Fancy seeing you here. Good night?”

“We are leaving now,” he said dangerously. Dawn sighed and nodded lightly.  
  
“Hey man,” Jake said, bustling over to them. He was taller than Spike and tried to use that to his advantage. He stood close to Spike and Dawn’s eyes widened. “She’s with us.”

Spike smiled wickedly, and Dawn saw her social life flash before her eyes. “Spike,” she pleaded.

Spike ignored her. “Is that so?” Spike questioned.

“Yeah,” Mike said, stepping forward and flanking his brother. They looked confident they could win the two on one. Mike stabbed his finger into Spike’s chest. “So back off.”

“Why don’t you,” Spike said, slowly twisting boy’s wrist and throwing it away from him, “scamper off back to your beds.” His face shifted into his demon guise, yellow eyes flicking between the two boys. “Before I get peckish.” He let out a low animalistic growl that sent the boys stumbling backwards.

Spike turned and grabbed Dawn by the upper arm and hauled her from the bar.

Dawn stumbled after him, her heels keeping her from keeping pace with him. She slapped at his arm, “Would you stop it, you’re hurting me.”

“I am not,” he retorted, tapping his temple but he let go none the less.

“Well you’re embarrassing me,” Dawn corrected while straightening her top.

“What in the bleeding hell were you doing in there?”

“I didn’t know we were coming here until we got here,” Dawn insisted. “I was trying to get them to leave when you came out and made sure my next 700 Saturday nights are free. How did you even know I was there?”

“Smelled you.”

“Well that’s gross.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said. He grabbed her arm again but gently this time. “Let’s get you home before The Slayer works out a way to make this my fault. “

***

Riley stalked around the upstairs of Spike’s crypt, gun raised. Sam dropped down the hole, her foot slipping on the charred remains of the ladder. “Clear,” she yelled up. She hauled herself back up and found her husband with a deep scowl etched on his face.

“Not here, not at Buffy’s, guess the next place we check is Willy’s.”

“Willy’s?”

“Demon bar across town. Spike likes to play cards there.”

“Ok,” Sam said with false cheer. “Let’s go bag ourselves a vamp.”

***

“Was that bloody Janice?” Spike asked as they crossed the street. Spike had slowed to Dawn’s pace. Her feet hurt and she was beginning to regret borrowing one of Janice’s mini-skirts. She had goosebumps across her body and was fighting the urge to rub at her arms for a bit of warmth. “She’s a right menace.”

“Yep,” Dawn replied shortly. She knew it wasn’t Spike’s fault and she shouldn’t be mad at him. She was the one who had lied but there wasn’t anyone else around to aim her angst at.

“I thought she was being a right bitch to you and you weren’t talking to her anymore.”

He steadied her as they mounted the curb and moved towards one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. The street was dark and shadowed. Many of the street lights had been bent over or smashed. She saw a few demons and the odd human scamper away as Spike came near them. Guess his reputation preceded him. The again, she thought, stealing a glance at his face, he still looked pretty mad. If she didn’t know him, she wouldn’t want to cross him either. She shivered as a cool breeze blew past them.

“Seem to remember a whole speech about friendship, individuality and anchovies being practiced on me,” he added.

She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands up her arms. “She started being nice again.”

“Didn’ know that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

They walked for a few more steps when Dawn felt Spike fall a step behind her and heard the rustling of leather. He laid his coat over her shoulder. She hugged it to herself and threaded her arms through the sleeves. She smiled at him.

“Come on,” he said gruffly. “Let’s cross through the graveyard, get you home before you do permanent damage to your feet. Don’t know why you wear those bloody things.” Spike ranted, as they weaved through the first row of headstones. “All they do is give you blisters. And do truly horrific things to your ankles. You seen Chinese foot binding at all? Cause I have and it is not pretty where you’re headed.”

“They make my bum look good,” Dawn told him, nonchalantly.

Spike blinked. “Well that’s downright disturbing, Niblet.” Dawn laughed, and he smiled at her. His smile dropped suddenly and he looked around.

“What?”

“Shhh,” he hissed, “I’m trying to listen.” He looked around the grave yard, sniffing the air. His face changed and Dawn stood stiffly. He pushed her down behind one of the grave stones without looking at her and moved away from her.

“Spike,” she whispered. “What is it?”

He fobbed her off, waving his hand at her. Dawn harumped but burrowed herself into the coat, and pushed close to the grave stone.

“Whatever you are,” Spike called into the night. He prowled over the grass, his eyes flicking around. “I might not be able to smell you, but I can hear you and I don’t have time for creeping little beasties tonight.”

Spike kicked at a headstone and felt it crumble under the force. He picked up a chunk of stone, tossing it up and down in his hand. He stopped and stared at a mausoleum. “I see you, beastie,” he growled.

Riley Finn and a woman who he assumed was the infamous Mrs, stepped out from behind the mausoleum, guns raised. Spike relaxed his stance. “Bloody hell, not you again. I haven’t fixed up the damage you did last time yet.”

“Doctor, by order of the United States Army, you are hereby detained for questioning regarding your illegal dealings,” Riley said officially, advancing on Spike.  
Spike laughed. “Been detained by your lot before, boy. Don’t plan on doing it again. Besides I’m not the bleeding Doctor.” He eyed Riley and the woman. He chucked the hunk of stone up in the air one last time before hurling it towards Riley and Mrs. Riley. He had aimed above their heads but his chip still fired and he stumbled slightly. Couldn’t even bloody intimidate properly.

Riley dropped to the ground as the stone crashed into the mausoleum and showered them with debris. He rolled, drawing his gun and in one smooth movement fired at where Spike had just been standing. The gun shot echoed around the grave yard, but Spike still heard it. The sharp intake of pained surprise. He turned to see Dawn standing with eyes wide, his jacket flapping slightly in the still cool breeze. The smell of blood assaulted him and then she was falling. Spike caught her before she hit the ground, panic over taking him. She was breathing fast and letting out small pained squeaks as she looked desperately up at him. He pushed on her stomach and felt warm blood coat his hands. She cried out as he pushed on the wound.

Behind him he could hear Riley calling for a medivac, his voice high. “I didn’t see her,” he repeated to Sam. “I didn’t see her.”

Spike wasn’t about to wait. He lifted her up, shushing her cries and whispering his assurances. Without glance at Finn, Spike took off for the hospital. Spike was over the fence and halfway down the street before Riley realised he was gone.

***

Please Review!

 


	2. The Good Doctors

Spike sped through town, jumping benches and cars as if they were no more than curbs. He listened hard for Dawn’s heartbeat, taking note of how fast it was. She was breathing heavily, taking gulps of air without expelling the old. He had to be faster.

He burst through the E.R doors, barely allowing them to open, shouting for help. People rushed at him and he carefully laid Dawn on the bed they provided. 

“What happened?” the doctor asked quickly.

“He shot her. He was aiming for me but got her.” He grabbed the doctor’s arm, pulling him towards him. He flinched as he his chip fired. “You better bloody save her.”

“We will do everything we can for her,” the doctor said calmly, unwinding Spike’s blood-soaked fingers from his upper arm. A deep red print remained on his uniform.

Spike nodded and looked down at Dawn. Her eyes were flicking around wildly and she was twisting away from the doctors trying to assess her. 

“Spike,” she called out, reaching for him. Spike bent down, his head close to hers and as far away from the blood as he could get. 

“I’m here, Bit,” he said softly. He grasped her searching hand firmly. “Gotta let the docs do their thing.”

 

She nodded at him, and then her eyes rolled back and her hand went limp in his. Spike stared at her. “Dawn?”

He could hear the doctors yelling and someone trying to move her away from him. The same doctor he had grabbed suddenly appeared in front of him. Spike’s eyes slowly focused on him.

“You have to let go and let us help her,” he said urgently. His face was kind through, trustworthy. “We are going to help her as much as we can, but you have to let us. Let go of the gurney.”

Spike looked down at his hand, shocked that he was in fact holding it in place. The metal was cutting into his skin. When he released his grip, the metal bore his mark; it was twisted and flattened, his finger indents clear. The doctor patted him on the arm and a nurse directed him to a waiting room. They must have worked on the Hellmouth for a while to not even blink at his unconscious show of strength.

They sat him down in a blue chair with a flattened cushion and assured him they would keep him informed of what was happening. They were asking him questions about Dawn, about insurance, about statements to police. He ignored them and stood up. The nurse looked at him with annoyance and headed back to the nurses’ station. 

Spike found the payphone easily but realised he didn’t have any money. He walked back to the waiting room and looked around. The nurse was back, asking about next of kin and asking him if he needed to know where the bathrooms were to get cleaned up. He spied a woman in the corner of the room, her face wet with tears. She was nodding along to what someone was saying at the other end of her cell.

Spike turned the nurse who was smiling at him encouragingly. “I have to get her sister.”

He walked across the room to the crying woman. “I need your phone,” he demanded. The woman was about to argue when she looked up at him and her eyes widened. She looked him up and down, her mouth agape. He flashed his gameface at her. “Now.”

She handed the phone over hurriedly and rushed out the waiting room. Spike dialed the familiar Revello Drive number, his fingers shaking. He found that odd. 

The phone rang three times before he heard her voice.

“Buffy,” he started.

“Spike?” she answered in surprise. She sighed and continued in a hushed tone. “I already told you, I can’t keep whatever this is going. I made myself-”

“Slayer,” he interrupted and for once she listened. “It’s Dawn.”

0000000000000000000000000000000000

Buffy arrived with the whole gang in tow. He imagined Xander had driven them. She flew into the room, and her hand flew to her mouth when she saw him. She looked like she was about to vomit. He stood up.

“Where is she?” she asked panicked.

“They took her into surgery.”

“What happened?” she asked desperately. 

“Finn shot her.”

He heard the shocked noises heavy breathing of the scoobies but couldn’t focus on them. He was transfixed to Buffy; coat thrown over pyjamas and sneakers with no socks. She wore no makeup and her hair was pulled back. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, maybe she had run and met the others outside; maybe it was just the stress.

“What? Finn? Wh-Riley? Why? Why would he even be-” she stopped, he could see her mind ticking over. “You,” she said accusingly. “The eggs.” 

“They weren’t mine!” Spike defended himself. “I already bloody told you.”

Buffy shook her head angrily. “Fine,” she said, waving her hands with finality in front of her. “Why was she even with you?”

“I was at Willy’s,” Spike tried to explain calmly, “and I ran into her. I was taking her home when the boy showed up.”

“Why would Riley shoot Dawn?” Willow piped up, confused. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“He was aiming for me.”

“That makes more sense,” Xander piped up. Willow hit him. “What? I understand the urge to shoot Spike. He’s a pain in the ass.”

“That can be very true,” Anya said, backing up her fiancé. “He often says and does things you would rather he didn’t.”

“What did you do?” Buffy asked suddenly. Her face was hard and red.

“I didn’t bloody do anything!”

“To make him shoot at you,” Buffy pressed. “You must have done something. Why else would he have shot?”

Spike stared at her. The others stared at him. “I threw a rock,” he said softly. “I threw at rock near them, didn’t even hit them.”

Buffy shook her head and huffed. She wiped at her nose, sniffing back tears. “I can’t believe you.”

“O-Ok,” Tara interrupted, stepping forward. People were beginning to notice them and she didn’t fancy being kicked out without any word on Dawn. “I think we all need to take a b-breath.”

“I don’t.” Spike glared.

“We’re all worried about Dawn so, Buffy,” she turned slightly and gave Buffy a small comforting smile. It worked. “Why don’t you sit down with Xander and Willow.” She pulled Buffy gently and she came willing, allowing herself to be drawn down to a seat. “Anya will go get some coffees.”

“What?” Anya said indignantly. “Why do I have to buy the coffee?”

“Because you’re the only one who brought their purse, Sweetie,” Xander said sensibly. 

“So I’m punished for being the only one responsible with their money. I have half a mind-“ she stopped at the look on Tara’s face. “Half a mind to also buy muffins because I am here to support you, Buffy, in your time of need…because I care about Dawn too,” she finished sincerely. 

Tara smiled. “Thanks, Anya, and Spike.” She turned to his scowling face. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up?” she said hopefully.

“The doc said he’d be back with any news.”

“And Willow will come get us as soon as he does.” Willow nodded emphatically. “Come on,” Tara coaxed. 

The group split, falling into the roles Tara had assigned them. She looked back over her shoulder see Buffy leaning against Xander, his hand in one of hers, and Willow’s in her other. Anya had flounced off determined to find the best coffee at the best price and Spike was trailing after her in a daze. She hesitated when she reached the bathrooms; male, female. Where did she go? Quickly making her decision she pulled open the women’s toilets and ushered Spike in. It worried her slightly how pliant he was. She’d only seen him like this once before and that had been after they’d found Buffy last year. 

They stopped in front of the sinks and Tara stared into the mirrors. It still shocked her that she was the only one there, Spike’s bloodied face hidden. She turned on the tap, waiting for the water to warm up before she tore off some paper towel. She held it under the water, squeezed and then reached up to his forehead. His face was covered in blood and it was streaked through his hair, his hands were flaked with it and his shirt was stiff. He let her wipe at his forehead until the paper towel began to disintegrate. He pumped the fragrance free liquid soap into his hands and worked it into a lather beneath the water. The soap bubbled red and ran in thick pungent swirls down the drain. It left a pink residue on the porcelain. Spike closed his eyes and tried to turn his head away from the smell. It made his stomach turn. Tara kept reaching out, pawing at his skin. 

“Spike?” she asked gently. He was gripping sink, his bloodied fingerprints smudging across the slick porcelain. He breathed out heavily and his fingers tightened. The porcelain crumbled under grip, falling to the floor with a crash. Tara jumped back as Spike growled and suddenly his fist flew out and smashed into the mirror. It shattered, and Tara flinched helplessly as Spike’s fist rocketed towards her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting the bone crushing impact. She cracked her eyes open to see Spike’s fist shaking slightly in front of her face, a thick shard of mirror grasped tightly in his hand. Fresh blood was flowing from his clenched fist and down his arm. 

“Sorry, Glinda,” he whispered. He dropped the shard into the remains of the sink.

Tara stared at the sharp piece of mirror that had been so close to her eye. “That-that’s ok,” she stammered. “I think if we just-” She stepped closer porcelain and mirror pieces crunching under her feet. “get your face clean you can stop scaring everyone is the waiting room.” She tried to smile at him but his focus was elsewhere.

“Cops are here,” he told her.

0000000000000000000000000000000000

Constable Clert had drawn the short straw. Night duty in Sunnydale was always dangerous and you got the weirdest calls. At least this was just a shooting…in a graveyard…and witnesses reported a man moving supernaturally fast and jumping oddly high through the streets…and that woman had said his face had changed into something of a demon…but it was just a shooting and he could handle that. He didn’t need to put any of the other details into his report and he bet Podge, his partner, wasn’t going to press it. Podge had patrolled the streets of Sunnydale for thirty years and had some strange opinions about things but he was a good cop, and if Podge said that he didn’t have to put those other strange details in, then there was no way in hell he was going to. 

Podge had already spoken to the nurses and was heading to the waiting room when a woman stopped him. She was finely dressed. Pencil skirt, a fitted blouse and jacket, and black heels that signalled her approach. At first Clert thought she must have been a pharmaceutical rep, but then she was handing Podge a card and talking about national security.

“We understand that one of your citizens was hurt during one of our covert operations,” the woman said sympathetically. She somehow managed to veer them off course and they seemed to be heading away from the family they had just been on their way to talk to. Clert guessed she was a lawyer. 

The woman was smiling at Podge whose eyebrows were raised. Clert felt a swell of pride. Podge wasn’t buying any of her placating, condescending shit.

“So,” Podge started, his voice low and gruff, “National security requires 15-year-old girls to get shot in the gut?”

The woman’s smile barely faltered. She reached out and laid a hand on Podge’s arm. “Collateral damage is always tragic but a necessary evil. National security cannot be compromised even if we do feel for the family- and of course poor Ms Summers’ medical expenses will be covered.”

Podge scoffed. “Medical bills will be the least of your worries. You do know who you shot, don’t you?”

The woman’s face froze. Her smile losing its grip on her face. Clert could tell this wasn’t going the way she was intending at all. She was used to steamrolling anything and everything in her path. Clert tried to see Podge from her perspective. In his fifties, pot belly, his shirt still stained with the evidence of dinner. He had a scar on his forehead, a straight line above his eyebrow and mercifully, he still had a head full of dark hair. He had lines of grey appearing around his ears and a permanent 5 o’clock shadow. His pants were just a hair too short and his jacket was old and patched. Hardly a tour de force to her. But none the less, there was a reason Podge had lasted so long in Sunnydale and it wasn’t by being stupid. 

“The Slayer’s kid sister,” Podge outlined for her. “You shot the Slayer’s kid sister while trying to shoot, if my sources are correct, Spike, her vampire ally.”

The woman struggled to regain her footing. “So you know about the existence-”

“I’ve lived on the Hellmouth my whole life, what the fuck do you expect?” Podge didn’t let her answer before plowing on. “Now stop with all this concern for the kid and tell me why you’ve been sent here.”

The woman’s demeanor changed. She stood back, her lips pursed. She reached into her purse and handed Podge a sealed envelope. When she spoke it was brisk, all traces of compassion and regret gone. “The United States Army will be taking over this investigation. Our man is in the waiting room to covertly take the Slayer’s statement and to maintain the relationship,” she said tactfully. “You are not to interfere in any way. Is that clear?”

Podge laughed. “I’ve seen first hand what a Slayer can do,” he assured her. “Won’t catch me anywhere near an angry one. Come on, Clert.” Podge beckoned Clert to follow him.

“We really not looking into this?” Clert ask him, watching the woman stride away from them. Her heels clacked on the tiled floor and Clert cringed as she forced the nurse to print and handover various information. He could see groups of people waiting for news of their loved ones on blue chairs. He wondered which one was The Slayer. None of them looked particularly strong but then again, the woman hadn’t seen particularly intimidating and now Clert was mildly terrified about what they would be asked to do if she came back. 

He’d heard the rumours when he first moved to Sunnydale but he hadn’t believed them. Who would? But then he had been partnered with Podge who had laughed at his naivety and proceeded to shatter it. Podge had taken him to a demon bar across town and Clert had watched as scales, meet claws and teeth, and 7-foot monstrosities. He had watched people beg to be bitten by facially deformed people with glowing eyes. He had screamed and almost fainted when one got too close to Podge and exploded into dust. Podge had just tucked a stake back into his belt and led Clert to the car. They had headed straight back to the station and Podge poured Clert the biggest whiskey he was likely to see in his life, and while he sipped, Podge explained all about the unique job of policing Sunnydale. Clert almost quit that night but he came back, just like Podge, and he was learning how to police Sunnydale. What to hide, what to investigate, what to leave to The Slayer, but this seemed like something they should investigate. This was happening to The Slayer. 

“You heard her,” Podge said gruffly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of spearmint nicotine gum. “Quit 5 years ago and still gotta have this stuff.” He popped the gum in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “No point,” he shrugged. “Army hunting vamps?” he scoffed. “No way they’re letting this go any further, they’re gonna bury it and anyone who gets in their way.”

Clert looked back at the waiting room. A blonde woman was handing out muffins and coffee, her pockets laden with sugary treats. “What about The Slayer?”

Podge turned and began the trek back to the car. “Woman’s been through worse,” he said. “Come on, Clert. Nothing we can do.”

Clert took one final look at the waiting room before hurrying after Podge. He was probably right. What were two small town officers going to do against the US Army and The Slayer?

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Spike couldn’t believe it. Nothing was going to happen to the boy. He had shot Dawn and there wasn’t going to be anything done. She was collateral damage, an unfortunate accident. Fuck that.

Spike heard Tara calling after him but didn’t turn. He stalked down the corridor, his chest was tight and his muscles taunt. He could still smell Dawn’s blood on him, feel it drying again against his skin and caking itself to him in thick swathes. It ripped at his senses and clouded his mind. He saw the boy, sitting in the waiting room, his wife holding his hand, as if he had a right to be there.

He didn’t feel it as his game face slipped on but Buffy must have because suddenly she was coming towards him, her face still stained with tears.

“Spike, stop!” she started, reaching out a hand to push him backwards. Spike felt her hand, small and strong against his chest, and a roar ripped through him. He grabbed Buffy’s arm, twisted it and threw her with all his might across the room. He saw her smash against the ceiling, taking out a light and crashing down behind the nurses’ station. He heard her slide through part of the wall, her body like a battering ram. Screams echoed around the waiting room as he continued to his target.

He locked eyes with Riley who stood up and made like he was going to try and talk to Spike. He had his arms out in front of him defensively, as if to wave Spike off. He thought he heard his name but then his chip was firing, and all he could think was that he had to get to Riley. He roared again and picked up his pace, his clenched jaw twitched, and he struggled to keep his eyes forward as pain exploded in his head. He reached Riley and picked him up, slamming him against the closest wall. The boy fell to the ground and struggled to get to his feet. Spike hauled him up and lashed out at him, landing a punch just under his ribs. Air and blood escaped Riley’s mouth in a sharp gasp. Sam threw a punch at Spike’s jaw, but he simply extended his arm out, a flat palm connecting with thick Kevlar and she went sprawling back across the floor. Riley was gasping for air and Spike landed a punch to either side of Riley’s face and another couple of punches to his torso before a strong hand wrapped around his bicep and thwarted the blow. Buffy pulled at him, but he refused to move.

“Spike,” she said warningly. There was a cut on her forehead and bits of plaster in her hair. Her shirt was dusty, and her pants had a rip in them.

“He did this,” Spike yelled, pointing down at Riley who lay unconscious and struggling for breath on the ground. Blood covered his face and drizzled out from his mouth, a puddle collecting on the tile. “And not a bloody thing will happen to him.”

 

“I know he did,” Buffy said angrily, “but this isn’t how we deal with this.”

“Fine,” Spike bit out through gritted teeth, “but he comes near me again, I’ll kill him.” He turned and strode past Buffy, bumping her shoulder on the way. 

A security guard dropped his gun as Spike passed him, flattening himself against the wall and out of sight of deadly yellow eyes.

Xander stood in the far corner of the waiting room with Willow and Anya. It had all happened so fast he had barely had to move. He watched Buffy watch Spike go, oblivious to the doctors and nurses who seemed to have come out of nowhere to check on patients now that the threat had gone. Buffy moved out the way as they moved a badly beaten Riley onto a gurney and took him away. Sam followed them, a nurse keen to check her too. Xander made his way over to Buffy. Her arms were crossed, and she kept staring down the corridor where Spike had been. The lights were dimmed from where Buffy had been thrown against them and back up security were starting to arrive on the ward. Tara rushed over to them, checking if Willow was alright. They clasped hands, hesitant to let each other go.

“Buffy,” Xander said urgently. “The chipped has stopped working.”

“No,” Buffy said firmly, finally looking away from the exit, “He just ignored it.” 

“Ignored it?” Xander repeated, “He can do that?”

“It’s just pain. He ignored it.” She walked away from him and sat down alone in an uncomfortable waiting room chair, staring into space. People milled around her but she just sat, waiting.

Xander rejoined Anya, Tara and Willow. “He can just ignore it?” Xander asked panicked. “So he could have killed us at anytime- God I taunt him all the time.” Anya rubbed her hand comfortingly on his chest and he wrapped his arm around her. 

“I g-guess,” Tara said slowly, “He’s never wanted to hurt us badly enough.”

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	3. Holy Contractors

Chapter Three: Holy Contractors

Clert didn’t want to go talk to The Slayer. He knew who she was now. She was the one who the nurses were whispering about. The one who had been thrown through the air and through a wall, and then stood up like it was nothing. She was the one with blood on her forehead, staring into space. 

Podge had no such qualms.

“Buffy Summers,” Podge said officially. Buffy looked up at him. She was younger than Clert thought she would be and more tired. He guessed it wasn’t fair to judge her on tonight. He searched her face and was shocked when he couldn’t find a cut. There was smudged blood but no cut. Buffy stood up at her name. Clert watched her unfurl. She barely reached his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Podgettario, and this is Constable Clert,” he motioned to Clert who fought the urge to wave. “We’re very sorry to bother you at a time like this but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” 

Buffy nodded and sat down in acquiescence. Podge sat down next to her and Clert stood awkwardly in front of them.

“Any word on your sister?” Podge began.

“Not yet.”

Podge nodded solemnly. “Now firstly, Spike.” Buffy’s head shot up at Podge’s words. “I was under the impression that the government chip meant he couldn’t hurt humans but he seems to have done a fine job on the army boy.”

Buffy stared at him, her eyes wide. She blinked and seemed to decide just to go with it. “It still does. Tonight was an… exception.”

Podge nodded. “If he comes back and makes an exception for someone else…?”

“Then I will deal with it,” Buffy assured him. “I didn’t realise the police knew who we were.”

Podge smiled ruefully. “We only see what we want to,” he said cryptically. “And I want to see the truth.”

Buffy looked at him but didn’t speak. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably not wanting to say the rest. “Buffy,” he said slowly. “The Army has taken over your sister’s case. I’m afraid it won’t be investigated by the usual avenues.”

Buffy took a second to process this. “You mean it’s NOT going to be investigated, right? Spike was right.”

Podge patted her forearm in an attempt at comfort. “I’m sorry we can’t do more for you,” he said sincerely.

“Story of my life,” Buffy said sadly. “Thanks for letting me know.”

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Buffy sat alone in Dawn’s room watching her sleep. The pain meds were keeping her pretty out of it and it was giving Buffy the chance to catchup on all the trashy gossip about town. Anya had left to open the Magic Box and it had only taken the first few sentences of a lecture involving the responsibility of money and limited-edition action figures for Xander to rush out after her, and to the site. Willow and Tara had gone back to the house to have a rest and were coming back with lunch and supplies for Buffy and Dawn. Willow had smiled brightly when Tara suggested they go and immediately looked over at Dawn guiltily. 

Buffy was glad they had left. She didn’t want to be, but she couldn’t help the relief that flooded her when it was just her and Dawn. They had all be so concerned about Spike and the chip, and making sure Dawn was ok, that she was ok, and it made her want to scream. She knew that she shouldn’t feel like that but she felt so smothered by expectation that she couldn’t see anything else. She would deal with Spike if she had to but he wasn’t going to hurt anyone, she knew it. She didn’t think any whiskey would be safe near him but the chip was working. He was fine. 

She was The Slayer and he was a vampire who the others had just realised was capable of chewing through his leash and now they all had ideas about how she should deal with it. Especially Xander. God, sometimes she just wanted to scream at him. Everything was so simple to him, black and white, but her world was technicolour. She didn’t have time for black and white, not anymore, she had lost that somewhere between death and resurrection, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t go back to that.

So instead she sat. Flicking through a magazine, sipping on a coke Anya had bought her before she left. A sugar burst to keep her going. She liked it when it was just her and Dawn. The expectation was still there but it wasn’t as harsh. Hell, Dawn would have done cartwheels over her relationship with Spike. Maybe that would have been fun to see. She found it so hard to make people happy these days, it used to come so naturally. Before she was The Slayer. 

Dawn began to stir and Buffy stuffed the magazine behind her. It wasn’t the first time she had woken up but it was the first time Buffy expected her to be anything resembling lucid. She had murmured something and thrashed about a bit when she first came out of anesthetic but the doctor had told them not to expect too much until the morning. 

They said she had been lucky. The main damage the bullet had done was to her liver, and she had lost a lot of blood, but they had been able to repair it. They’d said she was likely to make a full recovery, retain full function of her liver and live a normal life. Buffy had also learnt a fun new fact: healthy livers could regrow lobes. 

“Spike?” Dawn whispered. Buffy rushed to stand as Dawn pulled at her oxygen tubes and tried to sit up. Buffy put her hand on Dawn’s shoulder gently and pulled Dawn’s hand away from face. 

 

“Hey Dawnie,” she soothed, “It’s Buffy. You’re okay. Just gotta leave that be.” She smiled down at Dawn and watched as Dawn’s eyes focused on her face. She seemed relieved for a moment before panic set in. 

“Buffy? Spike?” she looked around wildly. “Buffy, Riley. He was after Spike. Where is he? Spike? He-“

“Hey, hey, sshh,” Buffy brushed Dawn’s hair back like their mum had when they were sick. “Spike is fine,” Buffy assured her and she calmed down, her breathing coming back to normal. “He just had to go home and get some sleep. Creature of the night and all that. He’s fine, you’re going to be ok.”

Dawn nodded at her, believing her sister without question. “O-okay.”

Buffy pulled her chair over to the bed and sat down. She grasped Dawn’s hand, feeling the gelco of the drip beneath her fingers. “How you feeling?”

Dawn turned her head to look at Buffy. She seemed a little confused. She looked at her hand and then down at her stomach. She seemed to consider touching her hand to her stomach but didn’t seem game. “Did Riley shoot me?” Dawn asked.

Buffy nodded. “Apparently he was aiming for Spike.”

Dawn thought about it for a second. “He was following us,” Dawn said. “Spike couldn’t smell them but he could hear them. He made me hide behind a headstone.”

Buffy smiled. She tried to sound confident. “Well don’t worry, I’m going to talk to the army boys and we’re going sort everything out, okay. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Dawn nodded. “Buffy, I’m tired.”

Buffy stood up and kissed Dawn’s forehead. She smoothed down her hair again. “Well you get some sleep.”

Dawn closed her eyes and then opened them hastily. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course I will,” Buffy said. “Promise.”

Dawn nodded contentedly and closed her eyes. Buffy sat back down and listened intently as Dawn quickly drifted back to sleep. She relaxed back into the chair and rested her head against her arm. She must have dozed off as the next thing she knew there was a knock at the door and a figure with a large hat shadowing their face poked their head in.

“Slayer?”

Buffy jerked awake, her arm crashing out from underneath her. She whirled around to the door and relaxed when she saw Clem standing there laden down with large brown paper bags. He was wearing a large, red women’s sunhat to hide his face. Buffy supposed it was his intention to blend in. She couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t managing it.

“Can I come in? I heard about Dawn.”

Buffy stood up and pulled the door further open. “Come in,” she said softly. “Dawn’s asleep at the moment but I’m sure she’d be happy you came by.” 

Clem came in quickly and put the bags down on the table in the corner. He scratched at his ear beneath the floppy hat. “I bought Dawn a few treats,” he said. Buffy leaned over and looked in one of the bags. It was filled to the brim with multi-coloured packets of food she had never seen before. Most had Japanese characters over them. She picked one up. It was a green tea flavoured Kit-Kat. Buffy crinkled her nose.

“We were talking about these at your birthday and I thought she might like some of the flavour combinations.” 

Buffy dropped the Kit-Kat back into the bag with a small laugh. “I’m sure **she** will love them, and love not having to share,” Buffy added quietly.

Clem smiled but was fidgeting awkwardly. He took his hat off and fiddled with the edges, spinning it in his hands.

“You okay, Clem?”

Clem took a deep breath, his skin wobbling. “I don’t know if I should tell you this because of Dawn and everything, and I’m sure that he has it all under control,” he added hurriedly. He paused and a look of concern passed over his face. “But he’s going after them alone and I’m no fighter but I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

Buffy stared at him. He let a deep sigh as if he had released a burden, done his part. “Okay Clem, I’m gonna need a little more to work with. Sleep deprived Buffy is not a quick thinking Buffy.”

“Spike,” Clem clarified. “He’s hunting The Doctor and anyone who works for him.”

Buffy stared stupidly at Clem. “I thought Spike was The Doctor.”

Clem waved her off. “Nah, just owed him a few kittens. Plus Spike never really goes for the magics trading. Says something always goes wrong.”

“Oh,” Buffy said inadequately. Spike had been telling the truth. Her shoulders slumped and she flopped back into the chair. She had just believed Riley, she never even considered that Spike might be telling the truth. And then she had…

“Yeah,” Clem continued in a rush, “And now he’s working his way through all the demons who work for The Doctor to try and find him. Put me right off my dinner and I had just ordered a fresh plate of wings! Plus, I don’t think Willy is going to let him back in after the damage he did. Might be easier to put in a second door rather than fix the hole in the wall. Hey, maybe Xander could take the job?” he finished optimistically. 

Buffy blinked. Clem was possibly the friendliest person she had ever met. He was looking at her expectantly. “Yeah maybe,” she offered. Clem smiled.

“I’m sure Spike will be fine, Clem” Buffy said confidently. “He’ll smack a few heads and then be back to his usual self.” Buffy smiled brightly. “Trust me.”

Clem didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just, well, and I’m not saying it’s your fault exactly, but he doesn’t have a very good reputation because he helps you all the time and hunts demons and now, he’s killing anything that even might know where The Doctor is. I’m just worried that The Doctor is going to send something really bad after him.” 

Buffy’s smiled faltered. 

“And I know that Spike puts on a good show but he really is quite sensitive, and he really cares about Dawn.”

Buffy nodded. 

“I know he does.” Buffy looked over at Dawn’s sleeping figure. She had oxygen tubes in her nose and a drip in her arm. She thought she could make out the bump of the bandages around her stomach but she was pretty sure that was her imagination going into overdrive. She’d been so scared and so angry.

_I’d do it. If it was the right person- person I loved – I’d do it._

Buffy’s stomach dropped, she looked at Clem helplessly. “I can’t leave Dawn,” she said. “I promised her I’d be here when she woke up.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She had never heard of this Doctor before, he’d never popped up on her slayer radar. Surely he couldn’t be too much for Spike to handle?

“Oh I know,” Clem said apologetically. He rubbed her upper arm awkwardly. “You should stay with her, I just thought you should know.”

Buffy nodded again. God, she kept just going along with everything. “No,” Buffy said slowly, “I mean yes, yes I appreciate you letting me know.” She thought for a moment. “Look he can’t do anything till sunset so I’ll see what I can do from here and try to get a hold of him.”

It would have to do, she thought.

Clem looked relieved. He smiled happily. “I’m glad he has you to look out for him even if you two are…not really two.”

Buffy smiled tightly. Clem knew that?

“Anyway,” Clem continued. “I should get going. Would you mind if I popped in when she gets home? See if she likes the sweets? I have a chart and I’d really like to get her input.”

“That’d be nice.”

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Buffy leant against the wall near just outside Dawn’s room. She has left the door open just enough that she would be able to see if Dawn woke up. Her phone was warm against her ear and she was regretting this idea. She called Willy for a bit more information, Clem seemed more concerned for Spike’s emotional state than confirming any real details, but an incensed blow by blow from Willy wasn’t what she was after either. She got it. Spike had punched, kicked, snapped and stabbed everything in Willy’s looking for any link to The Doctor he could. The damage was so bad that Willy’s closed. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time that happened. Usually it was just slower and a different bartender took over. She sighed. She got it; Spike bad.

“And now my nose is broken!” he finished. She imagined he had thrown his arms in the air in frustration at that point. But what he said, that peaked her attention. 

“He hit you?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes,” Buffy said without missing a beat. “Repeatedly and maliciously.”

“That hurts, Slayer.”

“So he hit you?” Buffy pressed. “His fist, your shattered cartilage.” 

“Yes!” He paused. “Well no. Not exactly but it was the same result.”

Buffy took a deep breath. This was a much easier process when SHE could threaten to break his nose. “How did he break your nose?” 

“Smashed a chair over the head of one of my best customers, always gets a meal and top shelf drink. Love the guy. And one of the legs ricocheted and bam! Right on the snoz.”

Buffy let out an indelicate snort. “Are you laughin’ at me, Slayer? Might I remind you that you’re the one who called old Willy for help so I’d watch it with the emasculating throws of hilarity.”

Buffy collected herself but was glad Willy couldn’t see her expression. “Sorry,” she said not at all genuinely.

“What am I meant to do, huh? He’s bad for business! Word is he hit Old Man Trinklet’s place in broad daylight!”

This was what Buffy liked about Willy the Snitch, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“So barricade your sewer entrance,” Buffy suggested logically.

“And what about if he just enlists help or hits after dark?”

“I’ve already said I’ll swing by after Dawn falls asleep tonight and Spike’s only friend is Clem and I’m, pretty sure even you could take him.” Buffy couldn’t help the exasperation from creeping into her voice.

“No, Slayer,” Willy said emphatically, “I think you’ve forgotten how it used to be. If Spike was a little less in love with you - and maybe a little better at poker - he’d run the demons in this town. Reputation like his, sometimes all he has to do is raise an eyebrow and demons fall into line. Seen it with my own eyes.”

Buffy became sombre at thought. Willy sounded scared. She was used to him sounding scared, he had a reputation for being spineless but he was usually wittier than this, more prone throwing in the occasional insult. Now he wasn’t deviating. He was focused. He had asked her to drop by to keep the peace before but that had been between whole clans, not just one vampire with a grudge. Buffy stood up straight.

“I’ll be by as soon as Dawn falls asleep tonight,” she promised.

“You better,” Willy said and promptly hung up on her. 

Buffy sighed. When did it let up? And why did everybody keep acting like she had no idea who Spike was. She knew Spike. She definitely knew him better than Willy the friggin’ Snitch. She didn’t need a lesson in Spike. But then a traitorous part of her, probably the same part of her that always told her ‘once more won’t hurt’, started whispering that maybe she didn’t know him. She hadn’t even considered Spike wasn’t The Doctor. Clem had dismissed it and Willy had outright laughed at the suggestion. Maybe Spike wasn’t who she thought he was, after all. 

And then there was that. It kept repeating in her head on a loop.

__

__

I’d do it. If it was the right person – someone I loved- I’d do it.

What are you going to do, Spike?

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	4. The Newly Weds

Chapter Four: The Newly Weds  
It was well after lunch when Buffy made her way to Riley’s room. Dawn had nibbled at some hospital food and then taken her next hit of pain killers. Buffy missed lucid, conscious Dawn but with her out like a light, it was the perfect opportunity for Buffy to do some recon.

Sam had pounced on her before she had even finished knocking. 

“Do you know what that monster did?” Sam hissed angrily. She gestured to the sleeping man in the bed behind her. “Ri has broken ribs, a collapsed lung, they’re not sure if he’ll keep his right kidney, not to mention the broken jaw and fractured eye socket!”

“Dawn is going to be okay,” Buffy replied icily. “In case you were wondering.”

 

Sam stopped and momentarily had the decency to look ashamed of herself. 

Buffy glanced at the sleeping man behind her, mangled face popping out from the blue and white hospital gown. She looked back at Sam. She had shed the Kevlar and was just in her regular black pants and t-shirts. She could see a deep purple bruise blooming underneath the fabric from where Spike’s palm had connected. 

“She woke up this morning,” Buffy continued. “And I would love to be sitting with her, watching her sleep, reading her trashy magazines, getting her jello, but I can’t because I have to stand guard over you two and to be honest, you’re not my favourite people right now.”

“You don’t need to stand guard,” Sam said, losing steam. “Riley isn’t cleared for transport yet but-“

“And Spike is on the war path,” Buffy interrupted. “He left the hospital last night and has been ripping through demon bars. And I hope he’s worked out all his aggression before he gets back here, and trust me he will be back here, because I really don’t know if I have the energy to stop him going in for round two.”

“The chip-“

“God why does no one get it?” Buffy asked, looking up to the ceiling. She took a deep breath and explained slowly. “The chip was going off, Blind Freddie could see he was in pain. He. Just. Didn’t. Care. Hopefully, he’s calmed down enough that he won’t be able to keep it up.”

“He shouldn’t be able to do that. Ri said it was designed to be debilitating.”

Buffy shrugged. “Spike shouldn’t be able to do a lot of things.”

“He needs to be brought in. We have a team-“

“No!” Buffy shouted. “Your teams have done enough damage in my town.” Buffy moved to stand in front of the window. Riley had been moved to a private room with a large window. Dawn’s room was half the size and the window faced another building. Least this window would hold Spike off for a while. Can’t kill someone you can’t reach. She let the sun bathe her tired face. She felt like she could sleep for a week. “Sun should keep you safe for now and I have to get back to Dawn, I’ll be back at sunset.” 

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Buffy had called every contact she had, every bar who would take her call, every demon she had ever been owed a favour by, and she couldn’t find him. She’d sent Willow and Xander out on his trail and apart from some very technical descriptions of the damage and unsolicited repair quotes from Xander, she was no closer to finding out what his next move was. They were too far behind him. She looked out Dawn’s window. The bright gold of the day had faded to a muted purple and she knew it was more than enough cover for Spike to move around in. 

She just wished she knew what he was planning. Had he found The Doctor? Still looking? Was he a pile of dust in some back room? Her overtired mind was in overdrive. There were too many options but one thing she was sure of was that if Spike was alive, he was coming back to the hospital. He was coming back to see Riley. She didn’t know what he was going to do when he go there but he was coming back. Spike wasn’t one to leave a job like this unfinished. He would want to see Riley, want to know he was in pain, want to know that he was going to be punished, that he suffered. Buffy couldn’t bring herself not to want the same things.

Dawn had picked at a lack lustre dinner and assured Buffy that she would be okay if she left her for an hour. Tara was there now and Buffy trusted Tara to look after Dawn. 

So she made her way to Riley’s room. She spied two conspicuously plain clothes armed guards outside his room but neither one of them rose to stop her. She didn’t knock when she came in.

“Buffy,” Riley said through his wired jaw. One eye was swollen shut and almost completely black. The bruise extended under the other. “Dawn. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Buffy waved her hand in front of her, cutting him off. “Save it,” she said coldly. “I’m not here for your apology. I’m just here to do my job.”

“I filled him in,” Sam told her, saving her husband from having to talk through wires and broken facial muscles. “We called in extra support for if Spike comes back.”

Buffy smiled. “When,” she corrected. “And more guns. You think that will stop him? Vampire, remember?” She took a few steps forward to stand beside Riley’s bed. Sam seemed to want to put herself in between them but knew she wouldn’t have the strength. This was a very different slayer to the one she had encountered only a few days ago. This slayer wasn’t unsure and wasn’t happy to tag along. This slayer was hard and dangerous. As still and calm as this slayer was, she was a loose cannon. No telling what she would do. This was the slayer Graham had said Maggie Walsh was afraid of. 

“Do you know what our plan was when Spike first got to town?” Buffy asked suddenly. She looked directly at Riley. Unflinching. “Run. Hide. Because once Spike sets his sights on you, that’s it. He doesn’t stop until the job is done.” Buffy glared down at Riley and his broken body. She fought the urge to feel sorry for him. Buffy turned and sat down in the chair next to his bed. “And he has his sight set on you.”

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	5. The Doctor Will See You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your reviews! I love reading what you like about AYA and what you want to see. I hope you enjoy this update!

Buffy was beginning to get impatient. Spike still hadn’t appeared and the sun had set two hours ago. She had never been good at just sitting still, especially when she was forced to be polite about it. She was sick of sitting with the Finns and their apologies. It didn’t matter how many times she told him to stop, he kept trying. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear his excuses or reasons. He had hurt Dawn. She didn’t care what he thought he had been doing, or why it was important, he had hurt Dawn. Dawn was lying pale and broken in a hospital bed because of him. If he tried to grab her hand again she thought she might just break his wrist. That would put an end to the relentless apologies and excuses, and as an added bonus, it would give her something to do with her hands. 

One of the guards had poked his head in the room for a whispered conversation with Sam. Buffy didn’t care to listen to what was said. She just hoped they hadn’t found Spike.

More timed passed and Buffy was just about ready to go out on patrol when she felt the telltale tingle rush up her back. Vampire. She stood up, her eyes trained to the door and was shocked when the window on the other side of the room shattered and Spike came crashing through. A man was trapped in his grip. 

“Spike,” Buffy exclaimed in shock. She moved to block the door. 

“Hallway was busy,” Spike told her. He brushed glass off himself and shook it out his still bloodstained hair. It tinkled to the ground. “Thought I’d find my own way in.”

There was fresh blood on his face and a thick cut on his cheek. His shirt was ripped and there were deep gashes on his arms. There was a tight circle of purple bruises around his neck and he was favouring his left side but Buffy couldn’t tell if it was his ribs or his leg that was the problem. He looked awful. 

Sam had rushed to Riley’s side, her hand finding the gun on her hip and aiming it at Spike in one swift move. Riley had done his best to sit up but was utterly defenceless, his ribs screaming with the exertion and quick movement. One of the guards rushed in but Buffy grabbed his gun and rammed it up into his face without taking her eyes off Spike. The guard lay unconscious on the ground and the other guard now stood outside the door, out of arms reach, gun raised but unmoving. Sam nodded at him, her hands still clenched threateningly around her gun. 

Spike turned to them. “One Doctor,” he announced with a sniff, pushing his captive forward. He was a young man, maybe early thirties with a nice suit and expensive watch. His hair was nicely styled above the cut on his forehead, and Buffy imagined his shirt had been nice too before Spike had all but ripped it off his chest.

The Doctor looked around the room. “Slayer,” he pleaded. “Help me. I’m human. You have-“

Spike’s fist shot out and connected with the side of The Doctor’s body. He curled over, grasping his ribs, but Spike didn’t so much as flinch. Buffy looked up at Spike.

“Not so much, it would seem,” Buffy told him. She moved forward, blocking Sam’s shot. The supernatural trio stood off to the side of Riley’s bed. A strange tableau, just outside of the humans’ reach.

The Doctor unfurled himself, breathing roughly. “Well not quite no, but I pass well enough.”

“Just thought you should know, boy,” Spike said ignoring The Doctor. “Was never me. Like I said. Just paying off a debt.”

Riley and Sam stared dumbly at the trio.

“Come on, Slayer,” The Doctor said, looking imploringly at Buffy. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

Buffy crossed her arms and fixed the captive demon with her best Slayer glare. “You think I want to have you trading dangerous demons and magic in my town?”

The Doctor shrugged, giving her what she was sure he thought was a charming smile. “Well I’ve worked hard to make sure I’m not dealing in your town, spent a lot of money to stay off your radar. Tell me, before the camouflage brigade got here, had either of you ever heard of me?”

Buffy didn’t answer and Spike scoffed. “Haven’t heard of a lot things that need killin’. Slayer hadn’t heard of me before I got here… And I’m a hell of a lot more famous than you.”

“Some might say that’s her Watcher’s fault,” The Doctor replied quickly. “Slayer, I make sure that my product doesn’t hit the streets of Sunnydale. I’ve spent a lot of time, energy and hard-earned cash to make sure my products go else where and the profits,” he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly. “Come back to Sunnydale. Who do you think financed the new playground on Lacey and Meade? Me. Pride myself on giving back to my community.”

“So what?” Buffy asked sarcastically, “You’re a humanitarian?”

“I prefer philanthropist. Less speciest.” He sniffed, straightened the remains of his shirt and gave Buffy his biggest smile. “And I can help you.”

“Help me?” Buffy asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Woman like you shouldn’t be working at the Doublemeat Palace. That smell alone is an affront to the line, let alone that uniform.”

Buffy frowned. “Can everyone smell the smell?”

The Doctor had the good sense to leave the topic of the smell alone. “I think we can negotiate. Come to an arrangement that will leave both parties happy. I was thinking 8% as a token of my deepest respect.”

“8%?” Buffy asked confused.

“Okay you’ve twisted my arm, Slayer.” He stepped towards Buffy and Spike really did reach out and twist his arm back behind his back. His shoulder strained its socket. The Doctor folded in half trying to lessen the pain Spike was so willing to put him in. Riley tensed at Spike’s casual aggression and Sam’s grip tightened on her gun. 

“Take it easy, Spike,” The Doctor huffed, grunting in pain. “I don’t heal quite as fast as you two, I’ll be bruised for a month as it is. Bad look for business.” Spike pulled him backwards and then released his grip.

The Doctor turned back to Buffy. “10%. Enough to quit, maybe head back to UC Sunnydale, start a college fund for Dawn. I could change your life, Slayer.”

Buffy paused as if she was considering it. Then she smiled and met The Doctor’s smarmy grin. “I don’t think so. I’m the Slayer, not some crooked cop you pay off to look the other way. I let you trade anything in or out of my town and it hurts people, then that’s on me. I have enough death on my conscience without adding everything you do to it.”

The Doctor’s smile dropped and he looked momentarily panicked. “You’ve made deals with Spike, even before the chip,” he protested. “And he’s already admitted he was more dangerous to me.” 

“I made a deal with Spike to stop the world from being sucked into hell,” Buffy pointed out angrily, “Not to line my pockets with blood money.” 

The Doctor looked stricken. “15%?” he ventured. He turned to Spike in desperation. “Spike, be reasonable. You have a crypt to redecorate.”

Spike’s teeth glinted under the fluorescent hospital lights. “’Coz of you,” he said slowly and dangerously, his lip curled in disgust. “There’s a hole in Dawn’s gut, you’re lucky I don’t put my fist through yours.”

Riley nudged Sam and she gulped and then took a step forward. “Doctor, by order of the United States Army, you are under arrest.”

Spike laughed, reached forward and snapped The Doctor’s neck with a flick of his wrist. Sam gasped as The Doctor slumped to the floor. Riley stared, doing his best to glare through his black, swollen eyes. 

“I don’t think so,” Spike said. He nodded at Buffy and then he turned and left. The guard thought about stopping him but then reconsidered. His orders had been to protect the Agent Finns and the threat was leaving.

“Well,” Buffy said, “That’s that done. I’m sure you can handle the cleanup. Then you can get the hell out of my town and never come back.”

“Buffy,” Riley tried again, “I really thought Spike was The Doctor and I never meant to hurt Dawn, you have to believe me.”

“I do,” Buffy assured him. “But it’s not enough.” 

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Clert sidled up next to Podge. They were standing in the former hospital room of one Riley Finn. They looked down at the body of a crumpled man, his still open eyes staring blankly at the wall. 

Podge nudged the man with his foot and then stood back cautiously. 

“He’s dead,” the guard told him with a raised eyebrow.

“Heard that too many times and then been knocked down,” he grumbled. He knelt down and rummaged through the man’s pockets looking for some kind of ID. He fished a wallet out the man’s pocket. “Rufus Rachend,” he read, squinting at the small font. “Reckon I collared him a few times for drug dealing on campus. Guess he moved into the big leagues.”

Clert huffed beside him. Podge looked up at him with a side long glance. “Problem?” 

Clert shook his head, glancing warily at guard. He would have thought that a fresh corpse didn’t need a guard but the same frightening lawyer had insisted on it. Armed spy was what he really was. Clert bet he was going to be reporting everything he heard back to the army.

“It’s just,” he paused again before letting loose, his rant complete with wild hand gestures. “How is it they cause the problem, we get threatened if we try to so much as investigate and we still get stuck with the cleanup. Bastard looks human. Can’t pass it off as an animal attack.” Clert kicked out at the leg of the dead man to Podge’s reprimanding glare. 

“Maybe he had a heart attack?” Podge suggested. He paused, looking at the odd angle of the man’s neck. He pulled at the head and there was a sickening crunch as he moved it back into position. It was impossibly floppy but at least straight. “There,” Podge said. “Don’t even have to say he hit his head on the way down now.”

“What kind of police are you? That’s unethical!” They hadn’t heard her approach but Clert guessed that was the part of the point of combat boots. He recognised the woman from the waiting room. She was part of the team that shot Dawn Summers. She looked bruised and tired but was clearly still working. That was usually something Clert respected. He wondered what she would be like under better circumstances. 

Podge straightened up and look the woman intently in the eyes. “You shot an innocent kid while hunting the wrong demon and you’re going to lecture me on what’s ethical?”

The woman flushed. “That was an accident, what you’re doing is tampering with evidence. We haven’t processed the crime scene yet. There’s protocols to follow.”

“What I’m doing,” Podge said softly, “is covering your asses like I’ve been told. So just say thank you and move on. Bloody humans,” he muttered. “Always messing round with things we don’t understand and then wondering why we get hurt.”

Sam’s hand flew to her hip where her gun was holstered. That was another thing Clert didn’t like. Guns in the hospital wielded by people who weren’t him and Podge. Made him antsy. Clert mimicked her stance. He didn’t know if he was faster than her but he knew he’d have a chance. Studies had shown that those who drew second were faster. He’d read about it. Something about adrenalin. He could only hope he had more than her.

“You’re not human?” she asked standoffishly.

Podge chuckled. Unlike Clert he hadn’t reached for his weapon. “Course I am. Doesn’t mean I think we’re better than em’.” He gestured to Rufus. “Well, maybe this one. But on the whole, demons in this town just wanna keep to themselves. It’s the tourists you have to watch out for, and you,” he added, “fit that bill as much as any one of them.”

“I am part of the US Army,” she declared defensively. “We protect people.”

She was saved from Podge’s response as the local coroner made his way in with a body bag and a gurney. “Evening Podge, Clert,” he greeted. He nodded his head politely at Sam. He hauled the bag off the gurney and began loading the body into it. “So what do we have here?” he looked up at Podge significantly.

“Spike induced heart attack. She’s ok,” he added, pointing at Sam.

“Ah,” the coroner said. “Yeah,” he moved the head from side to side, inspecting the neck. “Not enough marks for an animal attack.” He sighed and motioned for Clert to give him a hand. Together they loaded the bag onto the gurney. “You think I’m going to have a slower night tonight? I’ve got 6 demons on ice that I’ve gotta figure out what to do with. We’re going right over budget.”

“You usually keep the bodies of dead demons?” she asked. “And 6 is a lot I take it.”

The coroner nodded. “In one night it sure is, Slayer usually cleans up after herself but whatever ripped through the demon bars wasn’t keen on helping us out. Left some of them smack in the middle of residential areas. Not even near a dock so we could just weigh them down. Rude if you ask me.”

“That was Spike,” Clert told him, “looking for our friend here.”

The coroner whistled. “Looks like he got off easy compared to the other guys.”

“Spike snapped his neck without a second thought,” Sam told them, aghast at how casual they were.

“And he beat another one to death with a pool cue. Could see the pattern in his skull. Least that one was left in the bar and not on my table. Boys just took it to landfill. Nice and simple.” The coroner sighed and kicked at the brake of the gurney. “Better get back to it, I’ll send the report sometime tomorrow. Gotta a lot of paper work to get through.”

“How can you all just be so…calm?” 

Clert looked at her with pity. He was astounded that a demon hunter seemed to know so little about how the world of demons actually worked. About how much was needed to make sure the general public didn’t know what really out there, how much extra was needed for people to believe the stupid cover stories people like her issued. Anything left in residential areas had to be processed, reported, and locals needed to be reassured. Sunnydale had a whole budget line for it.

Clert didn’t know what answer to give her. He was just doing his job and he was doing it a hell of a lot better than she was doing hers. Podge moved beside him, his arms stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

“Were not the ones who pissed of The Slayer.”

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Buffy hurriedly stood up, well she tried to. She had somehow tangled in her scarf and tied herself to the chair.

“So when can I go home?” Dawn asked eagerly. She was sitting up, her back supported by more pillows than she was strictly allocated but Anya had made sure that she as comfortable as possible. Said it would allow for prompt healing so she could return to working of her debt. There was no excuse for untimely restitution apparently. 

“Whoah there buster, hold your horses,” Buffy warned, looking from Dawn to the doctor. She unravelled herself, finally just ripping the scarf in half, before coming to stand beside Dawn’s bed. “You’re not going anywhere until you pass each and every test.”

“And here was me thinking I’d get a break from tests,” Dawn joked.

The doctor smiled and reached for Dawn’s chart. “As I was saying,” she continued, “Everything is looking good. The incision looks clean and your levels all look ok. We’ll need to keep you in a few more days, maybe a week to monitor your liver function but everything is in normal range at the moment.”

“So she’s okay?” Buffy asked, she needed to hear it.

The doctor smiled at her again. “Yes,” the doctor reiterated. “She was lucky she got here so quickly!”

“I know,” Dawn said. “Who knew Spike was so fast – like whoosh fast!” She streaked her hand through the air. 

“Spike?” the doctor said, her smile faltering. “Was that the, er, man from the waiting room?” She was concerned. 

“Yes,” Buffy admitted, “But he probably won’t be coming by again. Hates hospitals,” she covered.

“Oh yeah,” Dawn chimed in, “He gets all argh and then he-”

“But the important thing is that Dawn is going to be okay,” Buffy said, loudly cutting off her sister. “And we are so grateful to you for that.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. 

The doctor smiled uncomfortably. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and glanced quickly over her shoulder. “Do you have any other questions?” she asked while inching towards the door.

“I do,” Dawn piped up. “Spike’s coat. The one I was wearing, where is it?”

“Oh,” the doctor said surprised. “I suppose with the police. It would be evidence. But you could check at the nurses’ station. Now if that is all I have to continue my rounds and I will be back tomorrow.”

“Thank you again, so much,” Buffy gushed, reaching out to shake the retreating doctor’s hand.

The doctor rushed from the room leaving Dawn and Buffy alone. Buffy’s unshaken hand dropped back down to her side.

“I don’t think she likes us,” Dawn said with a frown. Buffy pursed her lips.

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Please review!


	6. Coats

Chapter Six: Coats  
Buffy took a deep breath. This was the third cop she had spoken to and she was getting conflicting answers. How hard was it to check if a frigging coat was in evidence? How many shootings could have possibly occurred in the last three days to make this so difficult. This was way more trouble than it was worth. Did Spike even really need that coat? It was a serial killer’s trophy, a prize for killing a Slayer. It was sick. Why did she care if he ever got it back? Good riddance to it!

Buffy sat back down in the waiting room. Maybe the next officer would be more help.

 

Eventually she had gotten her hands on the plastic bag filled with Dawn’s clothes. She had had to threaten some poor constable that if he didn’t hand it over to her she was going to break every bone in his arm, but she had it. She walked out of the police station with a sense of pride and a bag full of bloodied rags. 

When she got home, she opened the bag on the kitchen island and rifled through it. Her eyes welled up as she lifted up the remains of Dawn’s shirt. It was cut straight down the middle and blood coated it completely. She stuffed the bloodied clothes in the kitchen bin and shoved them down as far as she could. She pulled Spike’s duster out and shook it out. She looked at it critically. She could see the dried blood and briefly wondered if she could just put it in the washing machine. She thought about her own leather jackets and sighed. Hand wash it was. She bundled up the coat and trudged down to the basement. 

40-minutes later she pulled the plug from the laundry tub and watched the red swirl disappear down the drain. She pushed her hair back from her face and her hand came away with a thin sheen of sweat. She flicked out the duster and smiled. Good as new.

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As dusk fell, Buffy made her way through the cemetery to Spike’s crypt. She had his duster folded under her arm. She paused outside his crypt. Usually she just burst in, kicked in the door and announced what she wanted, but now she wasn’t sure. Would he even let her do that? Probably wasn’t as charming when there was no expectation of sex. 

She knocked lightly and pushed the heavy door open slowly. Plenty of time for him to stop her. She called out his name as she let herself in, shutting the crypt door behind her. She looked around the upstairs of his crypt and saw him sprawled in his comfy chair, feet bare, a glass in his hand. The TV was on but she didn’t think he was watching it. 

“Spike?” She clutched the duster tightly. His head whipped around and he stood up quickly, knocking over his bottle of whisky in the process. He didn’t take any notice as the amber liquid spilled out across the stone and mixed with dust and charcoal. 

“Is Dawn ok?” he asked, his voice slightly frantic.

“Dawn is fine,” she assured him quickly. She saw his shoulders relax at her words, some of the stress leaving them. He just stared at her. Not speaking. 

“The doctors say she should be able to come home next week.”

“Good,” Spike said flatly.

“She, um,” Buffy fumbled for words. “She keeps asking why you haven’t come by. She doesn’t buy that you can’t get past the hospital security.”

“Well she was always the smart one.”

Buffy rocked back on her heels, not wanting to make eye contact with him. It was so awkward. Why did she have to make it so awkward? He wasn’t meeting her eyes either but she doubted it was for the same reason. She took the opportunity to assess the state of him. Most of the smaller wounds had healed already. He still had a black eye but the cut was no more than a pale pink line. She couldn’t tell if his arms were healed, his red shirt covered him completely. He still seemed to be favouring one side though. There were no rips in his jeans. Ribs, she decided. 

“I um, brought your coat back,” Buffy said suddenly, thrusting it out in front of her like a pathetic peace offering. “Cops weren’t really willing to let it out of evidence but I can be persuasive when I want to be.”

He glanced at it warily. “I don’t want it.”

“What?” Buffy asked dumbly. She looked at her extended arms and proffered black material like an offering. “But it’s your coat.”

“I don’t…” He trailed of, his jaw was tight and he pursed his lips as if trying to keep the words in. “It smells like her blood. I don’t want it.”

“Oh ‘spose it makes you hungry, huh?” Buffy joked, attempting a smile.

“Get out,” he hissed. His eyes flashed at her, still blue, but filled with the same hurt and fury that he had sent her way when she was last in his crypt. 

“I’m sorry,” Buffy floundered. “That was a bad joke. Bad, bad joke. I don’t even know why-“

“Now.”

His tone brokered no argument and he turned his back on her. She didn’t think he had ever spoken to her like that before and he had definitely never just flat out ignored her like that. She nodded at his back and shook her head.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She knew he heard her. She curled her fingers into the leather and made her way out the crypt. She could feel the sleeves of the duster skirting along the floor. She scooped it up again as she pulled the door open and walked back out into the cemetery. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Please review!


	7. Apologies

Chapter Seven: Apologies

Buffy had the vampire in a headlock. His arms were pinwheeling around occasionally making contact with her body. “Would you stop that!” she scolded as he landed a glancing blow at her thigh. “I just want to ask you a question.”

“Well I don’t want to help you, Slayer!” he spat defiantly as one could with their head in an armpit. 

Buffy rolled her eyes and flung the vampire into a headstone. He laid there in a daze, not quite sure he could stand. The next thing he saw were a pair of black boots in front of his face. He braced himself ready for the final blow when soft black leather was thrust into his face. “What does this smell like?”

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She could do this. It was just Spike. Just Spike. Just the demon she had been sleeping with in a bunch of public places and doing unspeakable things with in private. Just Spike who she had beaten within an inch of his life. Just Spike who she hadn’t trusted. Just Spike who had plowed through Riley. Just Spike who had lied to her. Which just proved she was right. She had done the right thing and, this, here and now. This was just nerves because he was volatile and unpredictable and violent. She was right to be nervous. The plastic bag twined around her fingers, swayed lightly in the breeze.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the sky and gave a small whimper. Who was she kidding? She was nervous because she had broken up with him and now he was barely speaking to her. The last time she had been in the same room as him she had hardly made the situation better. It had been so easy with him before, after she came back. But then she had to go and open her mouth and insert foot. Why did she have to go and ruin it all?

But she was the Slayer, dammit. Chosen. She didn’t cower over one vampire. So she knocked and waited. Not because she was scared of his reaction, of course not, but because it was the polite thing to do.

The crypt door opened slowly and she was greeted by the sight of Spike, a cigarette hanging out his mouth, a glass of blood in one hand and a cross bow in the other.

“Oh it’s you,” he said with noticeable disappointment. “What do you want?” he wandered back to the sarcophagus that sat in the middle of the room. He threw the cross bow lightly behind him, not taking notice of where it landed. He jumped up and sat with crossed legs on top of it. She gulped as she remembered just what they had done on that very surface not even two weeks ago. Focus Buffy!

“Why are you answering the door with a cross bow?” She took his disarmament as an invitation and made her way into the crypt. She twirled the bag in-between her fingers.

“Seems taking out The Doctor created a bit of a power vacuum. Had some nasty sorts at my door.”

“Need a hand with them?” she offered. 

Spike cocked his head to the side and looked at quizzingly. She shifted nervously under his gaze. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the Niblet?” he asked finally.

Buffy moved forward and leant against the sarcophagus. She was careful not to touch him. He shifted slightly to make sure he could still see her face.

“Think she’s a little sick of me to be honest,” she said with a smile. “She just wants to go home. She’s feeling a little stir crazy.”

Spike nodded. 

“So um,” Buffy started. “Here.” She thrust the bag out, almost knocking it into his chest. He took the bag and peered into in, his coat was neatly folded at the bottom. “I had it dry cleaned – twice - and vamp tested. No blood smell to be …smelled.”

She watched as he unfurled it from the bag. It draped itself over his legs and down the carved stone. “Thanks,” he said softy.

She smiled at him. “You’re welcome.” 

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Buffy busied herself with getting Dawn home from the hospital. It was a beautiful, time consuming distraction and she knew Spike wasn’t going to be anywhere near it. 

She had sent Anya to the Pharmacy to get Dawn’s medication while Xander brought the car round. She had signed all the paperwork without reading it and all but threw it back to the nurses. She thought they were happy to see the back of her, to be honest. She pushed Dawn slowly in the wheel chair to the exit. Dawn stood gingerly as Xander hurried out the car to help her. She had Buffy on one side and Xander on the other before she managed to fold herself into the front seat. Anya came out a few minutes later looking harried but held up the small bag triumphantly. Yeah, they were definitely happy to see the back of them.

Tara had organised pizza for dinner and by the time Buffy closed the door behind her friends, she was shattered. She felt like Aurora might have had the right idea. She smiled tiredly at Willow who was in the kitchen making up a special tea for Dawn. She claimed it had great restorative powers and would work wonders on Dawn’s scar. Buffy didn’t question it.

Buffy went upstairs to check on Dawn. She was laying in bed, her diary propped up on a pillow. Her pen was moving quickly across the page and she had a look of intense concentration on her face. The pages were thick and a leather tie snaked down her leg. It wasn’t Dawn’s usual pink sparkle themed diary. The seriousness of the moment was slightly undercut by the large novelty pen she was recording her inner most thoughts with. 

Buffy knocked lightly. “I didn’t know you still did that,” Buffy said, gesturing to the diary. She settled herself by Dawn’s feet, careful not to jostle the bed too much.

Dawn shrugged. “I started again when you were gone. Spike thought it would help.”

“Did it?”

Dawn nodded. “A bit.”

“That’s good.”

Dawn closed her diary, the elaborate fluffy pen still marking her place. She leant to put it on her bed side table but winced before she made it. Buffy quickly took it from her hands and laid it carefully beneath Dawn’s lamp. Her finger tips trailed along the soft brown leather. It must have been expensive. She pulled her fingers back quickly and repositioned herself at Dawn’s feet.

“Where’s Spike?” Dawn asked.

“He’ll be around,” Buffy assured her. “He never stays away for long.” She was saved from what she was sure was a hundred more questions as Willow came in wielding a tea that made Buffy’s eyes water.

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	8. Till the End of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who have taken the time to kudos, subscribe, and especially review. I hope you like this installment!

Chapter Eight: Till the End of the World   
Buffy stormed through the graveyard. Even when he was nowhere near her he managed to piss her off. She had had his coat dry cleaned dammit! Did he know how expensive that was? 

She kicked in the door of his crypt, the thump reverberating around the small stone room. He was in the same place as usual. Propped up in front of the tv with a glass of whiskey in his hand. An empty bottle sat beside him. Did he ever stop drinking? He had cuts on his face again and bruising around his eye. Clearly he was still going out to patrol. He barely turned his head as she made her dramatic entrance.

“Spike,” she said harshly. She could have sworn he rolled his eyes but then he stood up to face her. He downed the last of his glass and made his way to the fridge to retrieve the half full bottle from atop it.

“Slayer,” he said with false cheer and the barest hint of a slur, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You made me lie to Dawn tonight.”

“Excuse me?” he replied aghast. He slammed the bottle back on top of the fridge, whisky sloshing up and splattering violently against the dusty fridge. It seeped in dark patches like blood. Glass gripped tightly in his hand, he stalked up to her. “Just how do you figure that? I don’t remember being anywhere near your place.”

“Exactly!” Buffy all but yelled, with an elaborate accusatory point of her finger. “You haven’t been to see her once. In two weeks! She thinks you’re mad at her. I had to lie and tell her that you were under the tree smoking but I wouldn’t let you come up because I thought she was sleeping – which means she’s mad at me so thanks for that.”

“Didn’t think I’d be welcome,” Spike said softy. He lifted his head and sniffed. His chest puffed out slightly and Buffy recognised it as his defensive stance. She’d seen that look every time she brought up Drusilla for months. Now days he wore the look right after she yelled at him. “Like you said, my fault.”

He brushed past her, pulling his arms in in an attempt to make himself small, and back to his trusty chair. The tv wasn’t even on this time. He just stared at the screen, drink swirling and dancing at the rim of his glass. Buffy stood there, watching him, with her fists clenched. She looked up at the ceiling in indecisive exasperation before finally looking down to face him. He was still stubbornly looking away from her.

“It wasn’t you fault,” she said softly.

He scoffed and said in derision, “I don’t recall anyone else being there.”

“I do,” Buffy said firmly. “Riley.”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say as Spike flew up from his seat with a growl, violently flipping his chair over behind him. The glass shattered on the stone as the chair tumbled back and crashed into the wall. Buffy flinched. That was his one intact piece of furniture. He advanced on her but Buffy held her ground. 

“How does that make any bloody difference?” he yelled. He was breathing heavily and his face was red. She could see the anger and the guilt in his face, and she wondered just how he managed to look so god damn human all the time.

“Because it was his fault,” she said calmly. “Not yours.”

He deflated. “I threw the bloody rock. Made him shoot.”

“Okay,” Buffy said with a small smile, “Probably shouldn’t have done that.” He looked up at her and she grabbed his hand. He looked back down at their hands and grasped her fingers tightly. “But a rock near him doesn’t justify shooting you.”

“Dawn was there,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done anything.” A tear escaped his eye and Buffy couldn’t resist reaching up to brush it away. She cradled his face in her hand and he leaned into her touch. “Till the end of the world. I promised.”

“If it had been anyone but Riley,” Buffy whispered as if she was afraid of being overheard, “You wouldn’t have stopped, Dawn would have stayed behind the grave stone like you told her. But it was Riley,” she emphasised. “You didn’t view him as a threat because he never had been before.”

Buffy didn’t know when he had moved forward or maybe when she had, but her hand had slipped behind his neck and his forehead was pressed to hers. He was cool and soft against her. She could smell the alcohol on him and the ever-present scent of cigarettes. She thought she could smell the slight tinge of dried blood too. She pushed down the sudden realisation that she had missed this, missed him.

“You were getting her away from danger and home. You did everything you could for her. Scared half the waiting room.” She gave a small laugh. “And that was before you went all terminator on Riley.” He chuckled slightly and Buffy felt his free hand slip around her back, pulling her in to him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

She felt him nod slightly and then his head tilted the smallest of fractions and he captured her lips in a soft kiss. She couldn’t help but kiss his back slowly, her fingers tightening in his hair. He pulled her in closer still, her chest flush with his. It was still soft and gentle. The lightest of touches. Buffy sighed and broke away, her body still flush with his. She titled her head away, their foreheads still touching. 

“Don’t,” she whispered, softer than before. 

“Why?” he whispered back confused. 

“You know why,” she insisted. She gathered her strength and pushed him away. She barely exerted any pressure and he dropped his grip, his arms falling numbly at his sides. She took a step back, her body feeling cold without him there. She swallowed thickly. “Nothing has changed.”

He looked at her with sad curiosity. The hurt was palpable in the air. She couldn’t stand it. Her chest felt like it was being crushed and her heart was racing. Her throat felt thick like she was fighting down bile. She turned and walked away from him. She could feel him watching her. She stopped at the door and turned her head back. 

“Go see Dawn,” she ordered. And with that she left, leaving the crypt door open. It was a perverse repeat of their breakup a few weeks before, only this time Buffy didn’t even try to hold back the tears and she walked through the graveyard with blurred vision and the taste of salt on her lips washing away the remnants of Spike.

Back in his crypt, Spike stood silently watching her go until she disappeared into the darkness. 

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	9. Visitors

Thanks for all your wonderful reviews!!   
Chapter Nine: Visitors  
Spike waited until he was sure Buffy was on patrol before he made his way into the Summers’ residence. He picked the lock on the back door quietly - they’d never trusted him with a key - a paper bag tucked under his arm. He could hear Red in the basement, the radio playing, and iron hissing slightly. Least she wasn’t bloody chanting. He meandered through the house and crept up the stairs. He paused at Dawn’s door and took a deep breath. He knocked and waited. When the door didn’t open immediately, he panicked for a moment, fearing Dawn wasn’t there but he could hear her heart beat, strong and steady, on the other side of the door. Thump, thump, thump. The door opened slowly and Dawn’s beaming face greeted him. She looked tired and still a little pale but she there and healthy.

“Spike!” she cried happily and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. He dropped his chin to her forehead and wrapped one arm carefully around her. She burrowed into his side. 

“How you feeling, Niblet?” he asked, concern colouring his voice. He pushed her back slightly, looking her over for any new injuries, assessing the old. He couldn’t smell any fresh blood. 

“Well I’m going to have to cross bikini model off my futures careers list but other than that, I’m fine.” She smiled brightly at him. She noticed the package under his arm. “Presents?”

“Oh yeah.” He thrust the slightly crushed bag out to her and scratched his head. “Nothing special, wasn’t sure what to get.”

Dawn peered into the bag. “Grapes?”

Spike shrugged and looked embarrassed. “S’what you used to get,” he mumbled. 

Dawn shuffled back to her bed and sat back slowly. “Tara will be happy with you,” she informed him. She chewed on a grape, talking with her mouth full. “Clem brought me two massive bags of Japanese candy and she threatened to dump it all if I didn’t eat a vegetable soon.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching her chow down on the grapes he brought. 

“You need a special invitation?”

Spike walked in slowly. He pulled her desk chair over and sat down, wrapping his coat around his legs as he did so. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “I should have been better, faster. Shouldn’t have riled the boy up.”

Dawn frowned at him. “Is that what Buffy said? Because that’s not true,” she said forcefully. “It was all Riley’s fault.” She ducked her head and picked at the skin of a grape, peeling it back slowly. “And I maybe should have done what you said and stayed behind the headstone.”

“You’re a Summers,” Spike said, jiggling her knee good-naturedly. “You women never bloody listen.”

 

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Buffy was curled up on the couch with a cup of tea when he finally came down the stairs. The house was quiet and dark except for the warm glow of the lamp beside her. He wasn’t sure where the witch had gone. To bed, out. It was all the same to him.

“You came,” Buffy said lightly.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, torn between running away, and throwing away any good sense and running towards her. He walked over to her. He sat down on the arm of the couch. He sniffed and scratched his head.

“Promised the Niblet.” He looked up at Buffy and tilted his head. “You okay?” 

Buffy nodded. Her eye was blackening up nicely and she had a cut on her temple. “Vamp introduced my head to a grave stone,” she said with a shrug. “It’ll be fine by morning.” 

“Good.” 

They sat awkwardly. Spike exhaled heavily and rolled his lips together. “I should go,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. He raised himself slowly and turned to the door but Buffy’s quiet voice pulled him back into the room.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about the eggs. I should have listened.”

Spike nodded, surprised at her admission. “Haven’t exactly given you reason to trust me.” He shrugged.

Buffy smiled ruefully. “Haven’t exactly given me reason not to,” she responded quickly. She took a sip of her tea. He could see the light steam play at her face as she drank. She was still half in shadow. “Clem and Willy seemed to think it was a ridiculous idea – you being The Doctor,” she admitted. 

Spike shrugged and sat back down, this time on the cushion beside her. He was still as far away from her as he could get but he knew it would take no more than an outstretched hand to touch her again.

“Was never really my scene.” 

She nodded slowly and they sat in silence once more. Spike hated it. He ran his hands up and down his thighs, feeling the static in the denim. “I owed him a few kittens,” Spike explained, desperate to fill the silence. “So did Clem, still think that game was rigged to be honest, and they said if I held the eggs our debts would be cleared.”

He rubbed the back of his head and then twisted his fingers together in between his knees. “I’m not stupid,” he told her, suddenly still, “Know sometimes it seems like I am, but I’m not. Knew there was something wrong with the deal. Knew they weren’t harmless. S’why they wanted me to do it. Make sure they didn’t take over Sunnydale if they hatched. Bit of disposable muscle to keep the little gremlins in check.”

Buffy looked at him confused. “So if you knew they were dangerous, why didn’t you keep them on ice?”

“Bastard didn’t tell me I had to,” Spike said scornfully. He looked up and meet Buffy’s eye. “Seen a full grown Suvolte demon before. Would have kept the precious spawn in a freezer if I’d known.”

Buffy nodded. “I really am sorry,” Buffy repeated. “Maybe if I’d listened to you, none of this would have happened.”

Spike looked at her, tilting his head to the side. She met his eye. “You knew at first though, you said it wasn’t me then he changed your mind.”

“You were lying. I could see you were lying so I just…assumed the worst.”

Spike scrunched up one side of his face. “Never really got the hang of lying. Used to bollocks up Angelus’ plans.”

“He could never teach you to lie, huh?”

“Goes against my good nature.”

Buffy gave him a small smile.

“I should go. You’ll tell the Niblet I’ll be by again later?”

“Will do.”

She didn’t get up to walk him out. He stopped in the open door and turned his head back to her. 

“Wouldn’t have made a difference if you believed me,” he told her. “Boy still would have come back, I still would have thrown the rock and Dawn still would have snuck out.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said softly.

“Good night, Buffy.”

“Good night, Spike.”

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This is perhaps my favourite scene of the entire story so I hope it plays as well in your heads as it does mine.   
Thank you all for your reviews! 104 at time of posting. I am most grateful. We’re nearing the end of the prewritten chapters so I hope you’ll keep reading and reviewing if updates became a little more unpredictable.


	10. Clert and Podge

Chapter Ten: Clert and Podge  
Dawn downed the last of her orange juice as Xander and Buffy watched on. Xander had helped himself to some toast while waiting for her to be ready for school. Buffy had had fruit and yoghurt. All the dirty dishes now lay on the kitchen island. 

“Done!” she announced. Dawn did her best to flounce out the kitchen, but the effect was lost as she grasped her side. “I’m fine,” she assured them quickly, halting Buffy’s worried progress to her side with an outstretched hand. “I don’t need to stay home another day. I am ready for school!”

“We believe you.” Buffy smiled. It was the first time the teen had been excited to go to school in as long as Buffy could remember. She had enjoyed being pampered and waited on for a while but now she just wanted her independence back. 

 

“Spike was here again?” Xander questioned. It seemed nonchalant, but his arms were crossed across his chest and he was scowling. 

Buffy sighed. Here we go, she thought. How had he even known? “Dawn wanted to see him.” She busied herself cleaning up the remains of breakfast. Scrapping the crusts into the bin and dropping plates into the sink. Xander didn’t help.

“Is that really a good idea?” he asked. “I mean we have to talk about this. You saw what he did to Riley, what if he decides to do the same to Dawn?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He won’t.”

“Because of the chip? Because that thing-“

“No.” Buffy cut him off, “Not because of the chip. Because he cares about her, besides,” she added thoughtfully, “Even when he could hurt her, he never did.”

“Right,” Xander said sarcastically, “Because he only ever kidnapped me and Will, he must be as safe as puppies and rainbows.”

“Spike won’t hurt Dawn. You wouldn’t have left her alone with him all summer if you thought he would.” Buffy repeated. She wiped down the counter, brushing crumbs into her hands. “You’re just upset because you’ve realised that one wrong comment could land you with broken nose.”

“This is not about me,” he said defensively. “This is about keeping people I care about safe.”

“And they are. Not that I don’t doubt your powers of annoyance, Xand, but if you haven’t made Spike mad enough to kill you in the past five years, I don’t think you’re going to now.”

Xander opened his mouth to retort but snapped it closed when Dawn appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ready,” she said happily. 

Buffy turned her back to Xander and made her way to Dawn. She gave her a kiss on the cheek and rubbed her hands down Dawn’s arms. “You have everything?” Dawn nodded. “Okay well you call me if you need anything and I’ll be right there, promise.”

“Got it.” Dawn nodded. 

“Okay,” Xander said, clapping his hands. “Let’s get you to school.” 

Buffy opened the door happily but her smile dropped as she saw two detectives walking up the path. She recognised them from the hospital.

“Morning, Miss Summers,” the older of the two greeted, quickening his pace up the steps. “Good to see you on your feet, kid.”

“Thanks,” Dawn said warily, eying off the two strangers.

The older man reached for his badge and flicked it open. “Podgettario – Podge - and Clert,” he introduced quickly, flicking his thumb out at Clert. Dawn didn’t relax.

“Can I help you, detectives?” Buffy asked harshly, “Only Dawn needs to get to school.”

“It’s my first day back,” Dawn chimed in.

“Oh go, go,” the younger one, Clert, said with a smile. “We just have some paperwork for you to sign, statements and such,” he told Buffy. “Shouldn’t take long. Thought it might be a bit less intimidating if we came here.”

“And Constable Mickney seemed very concerned for his arm,” Podge added with a smile and a wink at Buffy. Buffy blushed slightly.

Xander looked at her. “He wasn’t being very helpful,” she said quickly. “Right Dawn, off to school!” She shooed Xander and Dawn out the door. “Have a great day and-”

“Call you if I need anything, I remember.” 

“We’ll talk later,” Xander said pointedly as he followed Dawn to the car. 

“Can’t wait,” Buffy muttered. She turned to the detectives. “So you wanted me to sign stuff?”

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Buffy finally laid the pen down on the dining room table. There was a basket of clean laundry on one end and Willow’s computer and school books occupied the other. She had hastily cleared them off so Podge and Clert could sit down.

“So the army is going to pay all her medical bills? Just like that?” Buffy asked skeptically. 

Podge shrugged. “That’s what they told me.”

“That’s good,” Buffy said with a sigh, “because I really can’t afford another bill right now.”

“Don’t you get paid?” Clert started awkwardly, “For being, you know,” he whispered conspiratorially, “The Slayer.”

Buffy let out a small dry laugh. “I wish. No, it’s the Doublemeat Palace for me… But I’m going back to college next year,” she assured them quickly, a blush rising in her cheeks. She was going back next year. 

“Oh,” he said flatly, “I like their Fisherman’s Basket.”

“So,” Podge said, interrupting with a scowl at Clert. Clert shrugged. He was nervous. As he had told Podge three times on the drive over, they were going to The Slayer’s house. “That’s all the official business taken care of.”

“And that leaves…unofficial? Business?” Buffy guessed, looking questioningly from Podge to Clert. Podge lent forward and crossed his arms on the table. Buffy eyed him warily.

“After the whole Initiative clusterfuck -” 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Wow you are informed.”

Podge barreled on. “I put out some feelers, developed some contacts. Demons who wanted to see the back of the government in Sunnydale. Got a few guys in the Mayor’s office.”

“That’s a good idea,” Buffy interrupted. “Last one wanted to be a snake.”

Clert looked at her confused. Podge smiled. “One heck of a graduation.”

Buffy smiled back.

“Anyway, word is that the mayor has had some important phone calls coming though, army types wanting the mayor’s assurances that there isn’t going to be any,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “pushback, if they come to town.”

 

“Riley wouldn’t be stupid enough to come after Spike,” Buffy said decisively.

“No,” Clert acknowledged, “but his bosses might.”

“We don’t know anything for sure,” Podge added at her worried expression, “But it might be a good idea for you and Spike to be on guard. Just in case.” 

“Here’s my card,” Clert said, rummaging through his jacket pocket to retrieve a bent business card, “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said softly, brandishing the card, “I will.” 

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Buffy told herself that she was going to go to Willy’s and see if she could confirm anything Podge and Clert had said. But instead she found herself in Spike’s crypt, on the opposite side of a shard of sunlight, yelling herself hoarse at the stupid reckless vampire. 

“Because I can’t fight guns and you can’t fight people,” she yelled. “We don’t exactly have the advantage here!”

Spike stopped and looked at her, tilting his head to the side. His face broke into a rare awe filled smile. “You’re worried about me.”

Buffy huffed uncomfortably. “Well I don’t think they want to take you out for dinner and a movie.”

“I’ll lay low,” he assured, tucking his thumbs through his belt loops and pushing his hips forward slightly. His tongue pushed against his teeth. He looked her up and down. “Keep my wits about me.”

Buffy gaped at the sudden change. “Well,” she said firmly… “Okay. Good. You do that. And I’ll…” she took a step backwards and stumbled slightly over her own feet. “Just go and see what Willy has to say.” She escaped back into the safety of the morning sunlight.

Spike smirked. “See you later, Slayer,” he called after her.

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Buffy stormed angrily into Willy’s, fully prepared to vent her misplaced frustration on the spineless, sniveling, pitiful excuse for a human being. Buffy paused. Little harsh, maybe. She just hoped Willy had information for her. She glanced around looking for Willy and her eyes widened. There was fresh plaster on the walls, no doubt covering holes. There were sheets of thin wood nailed haphazardly to the wall too, Buffy assumed that was the hole Clem suggested just be made into a new entrance. The usually tightly packed chairs and tables seemed sparse and Buffy thought she saw a chair leg buried in the ceiling by the bathrooms. 

She smiled when Willy popped up from behind the bar. A bandage taped over his still bruised nose. “No!” he cried. “I don’t know him. I didn’t see anything, I don’t even know where to start looking.” 

“Now Willy,” Buffy said with an overly sweet smile and innocent shrug of her shoulders. “You don’t even know what I want to ask.”

“Oh no,” Willy said, brandishing his dish towel like a shield. “I’m not saying a word about any of the army soldiers scouting the town or anything that might be at all tangentially related to that.”

Buffy came up and leaned on the bar. “Just where have those army types been scouting?”

“Oh geez.”

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Buffy peered around the corner and watched as a young couple climbed out of a beat up old station wagon. They walked stiffly to the small house at the end of an overgrown drive.

“Gotcha.”

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	11. Round One

Buffy leaned back on the couch with a sigh. She had a plate of steaming left over Chinese (Tara’s shout) and was just about to kick of her shoes and tuck in when she heard a key in the front door. 

“Hey Will,” she said without looking up from her dinner. “I left some of the honey chicken in the fridge for you, but the pork is gone sorry, Dawn wasn’t keen on sharing.” She looked up with a smile. The tense smiling faces of Willow, Xander, Anya and Tara stared down at her. Tara looked down and away from Buffy, her shoulders slumped and small. Buffy’s smile faltered. “Did we have plans?”

“No,” Willow said, shaking her hands and smiling awkwardly. “No plans. Just some friends hanging out…talking. Shooting the breeze. A chit chat. Having a chin wag. Bit of yibber yabber.”

“She gets it, Will,” Xander interrupted, his hand resting on her forearm staying the rest of her words.

“I just wanted Buffy to know our intentions,” Willow defended with a small frown. “Should we sit? We should sit.”

The group shuffled in and settled themselves onto various pieces of furniture. Tara sat down next to Buffy while Anya positioned herself, ramrod straight, on the arm of the couch. Xander stood at the threshold of the lounge pacing between the oft broken French doors, while Willow moved to stand in front of Buffy, the table separating them, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. Buffy leant forward and placed her dinner on the coffee table. She eyed the group warily. 

“Your intentions?”

“Yes,” Anya said enthusiastically. “The internet was very clear that we should lay out our intentions and speak strongly but only in ‘I’ statements. I’ll demonstrate.” She swivelled to fully face Buffy. “I feel betrayed. I feel scared. I feel as if you are stupidly and recklessly letting a rabid killer loose in the streets and in your own home, that kind of thing.” Anya sighed happily.

“Thanks, Hun,” Xander said sarcastically. He stood with his hands in his pockets, pausing to look at his fiancé. 

“So, what?” Buffy asked angrily, sitting up straighter. “This is an intervention? About Spike? A Spik-vention?”

“No, no,” Willow said, turning to the side slightly and shaking her hands out. “It’s not.”  
She paused and looked at the others. “Well it is but not like she is making it sound.” Anya looked offended. “Plus, we’d never call it that. We’re just concerned, Buffy.”

“You’re concerned?” Buffy repeated slowly. 

“Yeah Buff,” Xander started, “Every time we try to bring it up, you cut us off or change the subject. You can’t just not talk about this with us. It’s important. You can’t decide that we’re not going to talk about it and then have Willow looking for property titles and running number plates without telling us why. We can’t just let Spike walk around like he is.”

Buffy scowled at Willow before turning her attention back to Xander. “He’s been walking around like this for three years now. Nothing has changed.”

“Well, no,” Anya piped up, raising her hand and firmly backing up Xander. “Now we know he can beat the living crap out of a human if he wants to. I mean, I’m not even sure Riley was conscious for the last couple of punches.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “And you want me to do what about it, huh?” She stood up and crossed her arms across her chest. “Stake him?”

“Well it is your job,” Xander said snidely. “Vampire Slayer. Slayage of the vampires is in the title. Though you do seem to conveniently forget that sometimes.”

Willow looked on nervously, trying to calm the situation through sheer force of will, while Anya nodded along to his words. Tara sat on the couch, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Oh, don’t worry Xander,” Buffy said dangerously. “I never get to forget what my job is.”

“Then do it.” Xander stared Buffy down.

“Okay,” Willow interrupted, laughing nervously. “I think we’ve got a little away from the ‘I’ statements.” She took a breath. “I feel that-”

“So, I should kill him because he used to kill people or because you can’t take him anymore?” Buffy interrupted, ignoring Willow’s pleading look in favour of glaring at Xander. “Is it my job just to kill any demon you don’t like? Maybe I should take out Clem?”

 

“If he’d murdered thousands of people then yeah, that is your job.”

Willow squeaked. 

“So maybe I should kill Anya?” Buffy suggested, her arms still crossed across her chest. “She’s killed thousands of people.”

“Now wait a minute,” Anya spluttered while Xander powered ahead. 

“When she was a demon, she’s a human now.” His arms were flailing wildly to emphasise every point. 

“So, she gets a free pass? ‘Oh, sorry countless victims, Xander says it’s okay because she’s human now. Hope that helps with your mourning’,” Buffy trilled sarcastically. “And let’s face it, she doesn’t exactly feel bad about it now.”

“I-“ Tara started softly, but her voice was lost in the swirling anger of the room.

“Like you’re any different, Angel ring any bells.”

“And I killed him.” Buffy gritted her teeth, her fists clenched tightly by her side. Her arms were shaking and her breath was ragged. Rage began to bubble up inside of her. 

“Not before he tortured Giles,” Xander continued, heedless of Buffy’s reaction. “And killed Miss Calendar, or have you forgotten?”

“Oh, that’s rich. I haven’t forgotten anything. Or the fact that Spike helped us! Without him Angel would have sucked the world into hell! Have you forgotten that you almost had Dawn taken as a child bride to a singing demon like a month ago and you seem pretty damn human to me.”

“That was a mistake,” Xander defended quickly. His eyes flicked to Anya. “I just wanted to make sure we’d be happy. It wasn’t evil.”

“People died!” Buffy yelled. “They burned to death, I almost burned to death because of you, it was your fault. But if you’re sorry it must all be fine!” Buffy yelled. “Xander’s sorry, all his sins are forgiven. Why are you the only one allowed to make mistakes?”

“Well my ‘sins’,” he put the word in exaggerated inverted commas. “Aren’t wiping out half of Europe and doing my best to kill every slayer who comes along!”

“I think we all need to take a breath,” Willow shouted panicked. She put herself in between Buffy and Xander, a human shield. She brought her hands up, trying to wave the anger away. “This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go.”

“Then how was it supposed to go, Willow?” Buffy asked angrily. “Huh? You all tell me what a bad slayer I am? You all decide how to do my job and how I should feel about Spike and then I just go out and do your bidding like a good little assassin. My opinion be damned, but then again, you’re not the one who is going to have to actually do it so it’s pretty easy just to point your Buffy shaped weapon at a problem! You should have just kept the bot,” she spat. 

“That’s not what we’re saying Buffy,” Willow tried, desperately trying to keep both sides at peace. “We’re not The Council, we’re not trying to give you orders.”

“Though maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” Anya muttered. Willow stared at her. “What? There’s a reason slayers have watchers. That much power in one person, they start to feel like they are the only ones who get to make decisions.”

Buffy laughed humourlessly. “Oh no, that’s not me. That’s you.”

They looked at her with the gall to be confused. “You all decided that I should be back. That you needed me here and now I’m here and you’re not happy with what you’ve got. That’s not my fault.”

“I think we’ve apologised enough for that already,” Xander said, but even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Buffy’s eyes snapped up at him.

“Oh, you haven’t even come close.”

“How about I make some tea?” Willow said piercingly. “Maybe some chamomile? Something calming.”

Buffy ignored her. She strode to the back of the room and wrenched open her weapons trunk. She fished out one of her favourite swords and made to leave the house.

“You can’t just walk out,” Xander growled, grabbing Buffy’s arm. Buffy shook off his grip easily and flung her sword out. The cool tip swiped at the skin of his neck ever so slightly. The group paused in shocked silence. She had never drawn a weapon on them before. Buffy’s arm trembled.

“I’m going to do my job,” Buffy growled. “Don’t be here when I get back.”

Buffy slammed the door behind her and Tara flinched at the sound. The group stood there awkwardly. Xander was staring at the closed door, shock and anger clearly written all over his face. Willow plopped down on the couch sadly, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her lap.

“That didn’t go like we discussed,” she said softly. 

“Tell me about it,” Xander said, rubbing his throat.

“Did you really expect it to go any differently?” Tara asked, finally breaking her silence. She looked up from her position on the couch, her eyes angry. She spoke calmly but there was no doubt that she was anything but angry. There was a power behind her eyes that the gang rarely saw. “That you could all attack her and she would just sit calmly and take it?”

“We weren’t attacking her,” Willow said, insulted, a small frown on her face. “We just wanted to talk.”

“No, you wanted her to agree with you. To do what you wanted. There’s a difference. None of you have stopped to listen to her in a long time.”

“With all due respect, Tara, you weren’t here the last time she defended a dangerous vampire, so you don’t exactly know what is going on.”

Tara glared at Xander. “I may not know Angel but I know Spike. And I know he wouldn’t hurt Dawn or Buffy. He loves them.”

“Yeah like a stalker loves his victim.”

“Buffy and Spike are-are friends,” Tara declared. “She needed someone to talk to.”

“She has us,” Willow interjected.

“She can’t talk to you.” Tara said incredulously. “You did the damage – we did the damage.” She looked pointedly around the room, pausing on each of the scoobies in turn. “All of us. We took her out of heaven and forced her back here. How could she talk to any of us about that? How could any of us understand what it’s like to crawl out your own grave?”

Willow’s eyes were downcast. Anya shifted awkwardly and the edge of the chair while Xander stood rooted to the spot, his hand still resting on his neck feeling for an imaginary wound.

“Something big and painful happened to her and she couldn’t talk to anyone and you want to take away the one person she could talk to?”

“Spike isn’t a person,” Xander spat. “And he is not the only person she could talk to. Buffy isn’t going around telling Spike all her secrets and feelings.”

“He is and she was. You’re all so focused on what Spike did to Riley but none of you have stopped to think about why he did it or what he was like before he did it. Spike was in pain, he was angry. He heard the detectives, knew the police weren’t going to investigate. He attacked Riley because Riley hurt someone he loved and I don’t think any of you would have done anything differently, you’re just blaming Spike because it’s more comfortable than blaming Riley.”

“If Spike hadn’t had those eggs…” Xander tried again.

“But Riley was wrong, it wasn’t Spike. It was never Spike. Spike isn’t dangerous, not to Dawn, not to Buffy, not to me, not to any of you. You think that if he really wanted to he could have snapped your neck already. But he hasn’t. You know he would never hurt you, not really. He didn’t even kill Riley. He looked after Dawn all summer, protected us on patrol all summer, he was there when he didn’t have to be and he’s here now. There is nothing you can do about it and if you keep pushing it the same thing that happened tonight is going to keep happening because even if you don’t want to see it, Spike has changed… And so has Buffy.”  
Tara looked around at the forlorn scoobies, spread out around the room. Xander pacing in the door way, a second away from fleeing. Willow ensconced on the arm chair, pillow protecting her, and Anya perched uncomfortably on the edge of the main couch, ready to support Xander. She was ashamed of them. Children playing at being leaders. They had no idea what it was like to have to do everything on your own. She looked at her hands and the crescent shape ridges on her palms where she had driven her finger nails in as the fight escalated. She couldn’t bring herself to speak then but she would be damned if she didn’t stand up for Buffy now, just like Buffy had done for her. She took a deep breath. 

“Buffy loves you all, so much, but she shouldn’t have to be perfect and give up everything for you to love her.”

“We’re not asking her to give anything up or change,” Willow said meekly.

Tara looked at her steadily. “You just want her to be happy?”

“Of course!”

“Then stop telling her she’s different, that she’s not the old Buffy, that she’s wrong. She doesn’t need that. She accepts both of you just the way you are, you could try it too.” Tara stood up, her hands on her hips authoritatively. “Now we should go, and Willow, I think you should stay at Xander’s tonight.”

“What? Why? It’s my house too,” Willow decried. She threw the pillow away but remained resolutely fixed to the chair.

“It’s Buffy’s and she shouldn’t have to go in for round two again when she gets home.”

The trio slowly nodded. Anya stood up and went to stand beside Xander. 

“What about Dawn?” Anya ventured softly. 

“I’ll stay until Buffy gets back.”

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Spike watched from atop a mausoleum as Buffy rained punches down on an unsuspecting nest of vamps. He had come for a bit of rough and tumble, the local pub patrons were giving him a wide berth. Been an age since he couldn’t start a good brawl. 

He had listened as they planned their night. He wasn’t really sure how many were in there but it didn’t matter as long as he got to throw a few punches. He crouched, ready to pounce, as he heard the door begin to drag across the stone. He had a plan to bottle neck them, push them back inside the tomb and bounce them off the walls a bit, but as he had been about to jump down like a perverted angel, stake in hand, Buffy had tackled the first one to poke his head out the grave. She had pushed the others back into the stone room for a second, but Spike assumed they had recognised her as three of the nest flat out ran for it, leaving their friends and the overconfident threats of the slayer being outnumbered behind. They didn’t make it far. She had run them down in seconds, pushing them back with a flurry of kicks and punches. One had escaped her fury, but he never even saw the stake that was thrown at his back and embedded itself deep in his heart.

Spike sat back impressed as she dusted three more, the threats of her painful death floated on the breeze with their dust, and then she stood in front of the remaining two with a feral smile on her face. They turned as if to run so Spike took his moment to drop down, arms raised to shoulder level to make his coat flare out menacingly. He smirked as the two vampires came to a dead stop in front of him, trapped between the two warriors. He thought he even saw one gulp.

Buffy used their moment of fear to her advantage, grabbing one of the vampires by the collar and slamming him down to the ground.

“You feelin’ alright, Slayer?” Spike asked concerned.

“Fine,” Buffy answered with a puff. She hauled the vampire up again, raised him and slammed him down atop a grave stone. It crumbled and Spike heard the snap of bone. The vampire lay immobilised, his back broken, unable to defend himself as Buffy’s boot connected with his jaw with a sickening crack. 

“Just you don’t normally play with your kill quite so much,” Spike said with an eyebrow raised.

The other vampire tried to get away again, but Spike waggled a finger at him and slipped into his game face, effectively rooting him in place. If he could have, the lone vampire would have died of fear.

Buffy’s foot paused in midair, suspended above the vampire, ready to stomp on his chest. She swivelled to look at Spike.

“I’m not.”

“Vamp looks pretty defeated to me,” Spike replied, flicking his hand out in the direction of the vampire. Buffy looked down. “Congratulations,” he said dully. “You’ve succeeded in pushing back the forces of darkness.”

Buffy glared at him and then looked back down at the prone vampire. She wasn’t sure if he was conscious. She let out an angry ‘humph’, pulled her stake from her belt and plunged it into the vampire’s chest with such force that the tip dug into the earth. She pulled the stake up through the cloud of dust, her boots kicking it with her steps as she advanced upon the last remaining vampire. His eyes widened, and he turned back to Spike, clearly weighing up which one he had a better chance against.

Spike watched as Buffy took one step. Two. And he let out an annoyed huff, rolled his eyes skywards and lunged towards the vampire. “Bloody ponce I am,” he muttered as he beat Buffy to the terrified vamp and dusted him with one quick blow.

Buffy glared angrily at him. “Hey,” she cried. “I had him.”

“I bloody well know that,” Spike said, “Why the hell do you think I dusted him?”

She glared and crossed her arms, her stake poking out menacingly from her elbow. “Fine,” she conceded with a stomp of her foot, “Now leave.”

She turned and left him standing in the open graveyard. He looked around confused. “Bloody well not,” he growled. He took off after her at a jog. “Oi Slayer,” he yelled. “What’s crawled up your arse?”

“Nothing,” she said bluntly.

“Right,” Spike said, “You turned that vampire into mincemeat because you’re fine and dandy.”

She ignored him and kept walking forward resolutely, her hands clenched tightly into fists, a stake clasped with crushing force. He whirled around in front of her, almost colliding with her. He grabbed her shoulders with a steadying grip, one arm dropping down to grasp her bloodied knuckles. “Buffy,” he said, ducking his head to make eye contact. “What’s wrong, love?”

Buffy seemed to deflate at his touch and all the fight seemed to leave her. She shook her head, her eyes closed and then she looked up at him. “Just had a fight with the scoobies, that’s all,” she tried to put on a bright smile. “No big.”

Spike looked at her knowingly. “They want you to kill me,” he said confidently.

“What makes you think that?” she asked warily.

“Logical step,” he sniffed. “They thought they were safe from the ol’ big bad, protected by this stupid chip in my noggin’.” He drilled his index knuckle into his temple, “Now they think I’m gonna turn on them if they so much as sneeze.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Are you?” she asked tiredly. It was perfunctory. What was expected of her.

“Nah,” he said, brushing it off. “Head hurt like a bitch for bloody three days. They’re not worth the trouble.”

“Promise?” Buffy asked, somewhat childlike. 

“Course,” Spike said self-assuredly. “And I’m nothing if not a man of my word.” He smiled at Buffy and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. He did that too often for her liking these days. Made her smile. “Though seeing as I seem not to be fluttering in the wind like those poor unfortunate lack of souls back there,” he nodded his head behind her, “I’m willing to bet you already knew that.”

Buffy gripped the stake in her hand absentmindedly and then flinched. 

“What?” Spike asked concerned, he scanned her or any injuries a lucky punch or kick could have inflicted.

“Oh nothing,” she said, opening her hand and letting the stake roll forward to the tips of her fingers. “Think I have a splinter.” 

Spike stared at her hand. The stake was cracked roughly, and a split extended down the length of it. He picked it up from her hand and inspected it. It broke in half as he held it, the pointy end falling to the grass with a soft thud. They both stared down at it.

“Might be time to call it a night, love.” 

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Buffy trudged up the drive and let herself in tiredly. The lights were on and she braced herself for another onslaught. She was pleasantly surprised when she was met by a silent and suspiciously clean house. She heard the clink of dishes in the kitchen and made her way slowly in, she watched as Tara closed the cupboard of the spotless kitchen.

“Tara,” she greeted cagily.

“Buffy!” Tara said, wringing her hands, “You’re back. Good night? Well not good but,” she looked down and hid behind her hair. “You know what I mean.”

“Worked off some aggression,” Buffy replied. She took a seat at the island. “Others not here?”

“I-I-I sent them home,” Tara stuttered, still failing to look Buffy in the eye. 

Buffy nodded, picking at her palm. She thought she could see her reflection in the counter. Even the tapware was gleaming. 

“Are you hurt?” Tara asked worriedly. 

“What? Oh. Just a splinter,” Buffy answered, dropping her hands into her lap and out of sight. “Stakes aren’t only dangerous to vamps,” she joked.

 

“I thought you took a sword?” Tara asked, suddenly looking around for the weapon.

“I did,” Buffy said, “but I lost it somewhere along the way.” She paused. She had no idea where it was. Had she thrown it? Embedded it in something? She shrugged. “I’m sure it will turn up or Spike will find it. I have stakes stashed around the place so it wasn’t a big deal. Anya found a cheap supplier on eBay. You don’t always have time to collect your weapons before the next one attacks.” Buffy shrugged.

“How about I get some tweezers and get that splinter for you,” Tara offered, “Looks like it’s bothering you?”

“No big,” Buffy repeated, “I’ve had worse.”

“I’ll just be a second,” Tara insisted and began to make her way out the kitchen. “Oh um, there’s a chocolate cake in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Tara told her. “Dawn and I made it, she was a little upset.”

“Oh thanks,” Buffy said awkwardly. “She okay?”

“She’s tough,” Tara told her, “but it scares her when we all fight.” Buffy looked down, brushing imaginary dust from the imitation granite. “I’ll just get the tweezers.”

While Tara was gone, Buffy hauled herself out the chair, and opened the fridge with a sigh. She found the cake easily; the fridge was depressingly empty but the suspicious dark patch on the plastic shelf that she had been steadfastly ignoring was gone. That would have taken some scrubbing. The cake was the size of a dinner plate with messy chocolate icing and a quarter missing. Some of the sides seemed to be missing icing where a finger had swiped at it. She pulled the cake out and grabbed a fork from the drawer. She should probably cut herself a piece, but she couldn’t be bothered. It was almost 2am and she didn’t really fancy doing more dishes.

Tara came back as she was taking her first mouthful. “This is good,” Buffy praised with her mouth full.

“Thanks,” Tara replied with a small smile. “It was my mum’s recipe.”

Buffy nodded. Tara put the tweezers down and went to the cupboard. She got out a large shallow bowl and took it to the sink. She let the water flow for a few seconds, testing the temperature of the stream before she filled the bowl. She placed it next to Buffy and directed her to rest her hand in it. Buffy followed her directions while Tara found a clean tea towel under the sink. They sat in silence as Buffy’s hand soaked and the other took small careful forkfuls of fresh cake.

“The kitchen looks good,” Buffy said finally breaking the silence. 

Tara looked around and blushed. “Yeah, I clean when I’m anxious. Had a lot of practice growing up.”

“Oh. I can imagine,” she said, thinking back to her one meeting with the Mclays.

“O-o-kay,” Tara said changing the subject. “Give me your hand.”

Buffy lifted her hand from the water, droplets landing on the island softly. Tara reached out and cradled her hand gently, dabbing at her palm with a towel. She inspected Buffy’s hand carefully and raised the tweezers.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, Buffy stiffened. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more, I should have said something or stopped them but…” She looked away. “I’ve never been very brave.”

She pulled the splinter out and held the small shard of wood up to the light. It was so small and innocuous and yet it had been causing Buffy pain for hours now. 

“You’re plenty brave,” Buffy assured her. “But I appreciate your apology.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Tara said. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Spike doesn’t deserve to be hurt for what Riley did.”

Buffy nodded. 

“Thanks,” she said raising her hand. “It feels a lot better.”

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I’m not 100% happy with the fight scene but hopefully you liked it well enough.


	12. Doublemeat is Double Sweet

Chapter Twelve: Doublemeat is Double Sweet  
Buffy had barely slept before her alarm went off and she was dressing in her garish uniform. She sighed and frowned as she looked in the mirror. She pulled on her hat, threading her small ponytail through the back, and the cow’s ears wobbled. The stitching was coming undone and she hoped that superglue was going to be enough to keep it in place. Many skills came with the slayer package but sewing was not one of them. She sighed. Maybe saying no to The Doctor had been a mistake. She frowned and then nodded at her reflection. Off to the salt mines. She might have enjoyed a salt mine more, come to think of it.

She spent the next nine hours smiling at customers, cleaning the grill and explaining to angry people that the soft serve machine was broken. When her shift was finally over, she threw her hat down on the staff room table and tugged her hair out. She ran her hands through her hair, before massaging her temples. She could feel the film of grease on her face. Luckily Slayer healing seemed to protect her pores from becoming too clogged with the stuff. The same could not be said for poor unfortunate Andrew who waved goodbye to her as he scurried out to meet his mum.

Buffy grabbed bag and eagerly put on her coat, hiding the bright orange. She checked her phone. No messages. 

She trudged out the store. She watched helplessly as her bus turned the corner in front of her. She checked the schedule. The next bus wasn’t for another 45minutes. She sighed. Then, hat dangling precariously between her fingers she decided to make the trek home rather than wait. She really should try driving again, but it wasn’t like she could afford a car. Her mum’s jeep was sitting forgotten in the garage, unregistered and Buffy didn’t even know if it would still run. How long could you leave a car sitting there? So that was registration, probably a mechanic and regular gas she needed to pay for. She rounded the corner to Revello Drive. She could barely afford to keep the electricity on.

When she made it home, she was greeted with a hug from Dawn, who made a valiant effort not to scrunch her nose up at the now all too familiar smell. 

“You’ll be okay if I go have a shower?” Buffy asked, concerned. 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Yes, I think I’ll survive without you for 20 minutes, besides Clem is coming over…if that’s okay?”

“Clem?” Buffy repeated. “Why?”

“To get my opinion,” she said proudly. “Apparently Spike’s palate isn’t refined enough.”

Buffy nodded knowingly. “Yep,” she said popping the ‘p’, “You’re real refined.”

Dawn glared before becoming unsure. “But it’s okay? I’ve done my homework, promise.”

Buffy nodded. “Of course, I mean,” she said rethinking her decision, “I’d probably like it if you made some human teenage friends …but considering last time you went out with kids your own age you ended up in hospital, Clem might actually be the safer choice.”

Dawn smiled. “The safest. Now go shower, you’re going to mess up the tasting experience.”

“Feeling the love.” Buffy pouted.

“Love is the lemon scented body wash I bought you,” Dawn said matter of factly. “The woman said it’s what all the crime scene investigators use, cuts right through that rotted corpse smell.”

“Think it will be strong enough for the Doublemeat Palace?”

“We can only hope,” Dawn replied solemnly. 

Buffy laughed. 

Once upstairs, she threw her coat over her bed and stripped off her uniform. She rolled her shoulder and arched her back. Her back cracked as she stretched her arms above her head. She sniffed at her bra strap and sighed, she wasn’t getting another day out of that either. She dumped everything she was wearing into her laundry basket, and brought the lid down fiercely, trapping the smell. She was thankful she had invested in another uniform, even if it had stretched the budget. She stood naked in her bedroom and looked around. It all looked the same. Same wall paper, same Mr. Gordo looking up at her, same dresser, same window. All the same. It was just her that was different. 

She padded over to the bathroom, unconcerned that anyone would see her. Willow was still at Xander’s she supposed. She stood in the bathroom, the tiles cold beneath her feet and looked at herself critically in the mirror. Her hair was greasy but she liked it short. She thought it suited her. And Spike didn’t seem to hate it as much as she thought he would. He still liked to play with the ends and curl it round his fingers. She thought she would grow it out again though… not for Spike, she told herself suddenly and sternly. For her. She would grow it for her. Long hair was part of her look, her trademark. It had come to be expected. Nothing to do with Spike.

She turned on the water as hot and as hard as it would go. She watched it swirl down the drain and she held her hand under the spray until she was happy with the temperature. She stepped into the bath and pulled the curtain around her. Steam was rising up around her and it was like she was in her own little world; warm and soft and quiet. She couldn’t hear anything but the thrum of the water and her heartbeat. 

The water cascaded down her body, washing away the dirt and grime of her day and leaving her skin soft and pink. She held her face up to the spray and closed her eyes, letting the water massage her tired skin. She pulled her hands back through her hair, the water pushing it back down around her temples. She spotted the bright yellow body wash Dawn had bought her. She smiled when she saw her name and familiar love heart written on the bottle with a sharpie. She squeezed a palmful out, more than she strictly needed, and began lathering her body. The bubbles clung to her skin and she reveled in it, enjoying how the lemon pushed away the ever-present stench of the Doublemeat Palace and their veggie burgers. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had stood under the spray. She had washed her hair with her new paraben free shampoo and hoped it would be enough to keep the grease out - until her next shift at least. She felt warm and relaxed, her muscles renewed by the heat. She reluctantly turned the water off and stepped out the shower. She wrapped herself in the biggest fluffy towel they had and wrapped another thin towel around her head. 

Once in her room, she took her time drying off and rubbing her bulk buy fragrance free moisturiser down her legs and arms. She pulled on a tank top, shimmied into her knickers and cozied it up in her sweat pants. She threaded her arms through a light zip up sweater but left it open. She wriggled her toes into the carpet and decided it was a slipper night. She rifled through her wardrobe and pulled out a pair of barely worn unicorn slippers. They had been an impulse purchase on a day out with mum. She had barely used them thinking them too childlike but mum had thought they were adorable so Buffy had humoured her every once in a while. 

By the time she made her way back downstairs, clean, warm and with still damp hair, Clem and Dawn were already set up in the lounge room, sweets strewn around them. They each had a clip board and seemed to be working their way methodically through the items. Buffy looked down at her slippers, she had forgotten Clem was coming over.

Clem didn’t seem to notice and waved at her with a toothy grin. “Evening Slayer.”

Buffy waved back and made her way into the room, peering curiously at the swathe of sugar.   
“Wow,” she commented. “Quite the selection.”

“It’s for science,” Dawn declared.

“Food science is a recognised field,” Clem confirmed.

Buffy laughed. “If you say so. Need anything?”

“Snacks would be good,” Dawn said.

Buffy looked around the room, “I think you have that covered!”

“These are sweet snacks,” Dawn explained as if it were obvious. “We need palate cleansers and to see how they pair.”

“Exactly,” Clem said. “Oh and some chilled water if you have it, Slayer. If not, tap is fine.”

Buffy nodded at the smiling pair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She shuffled off into the kitchen, perplexed. How did her life become this? She looked out the kitchen window and frowned at the setting sun. Another day done, she thought dully, and what had she accomplished? She rifled through the cupboards and found some microwave popcorn. That would have to suffice for salty. She popped it in the microwave, smiling at her own pun, and pulled the jug of water out the fridge. She heard the familiar pop, pop, pop as the kernels heated and got two glasses out the cupboard as well.

She barley registered the tingles as the back door opened. “Hello Spike,” she greeted. She placed the glasses on the island bench. Spike peered curiously into the lounge, hearing voices.

“What’s going on in there?” he asked. 

“From what I can hear, Clem and Dawn are having a raucous debate on the merits of taste versus texture.” Spike raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I’ve been put on snack duty. Plus, I thought I’d be safer in here where I actually know what all the food is.”

“Smart woman.”

Spike watched her for a second. His eyes settled on her slippers before he looked back at her face. “So patrol not on the menu for tonight, I take it?”

Buffy shrugged. “Thought I’d take the night off.”

Spike nodded and moved around the island to be closer to her. “You do look tired,” he acknowledged.

“Thanks!” Buffy said offended.

“I just meant, you’ve been stressed lately,” he defended. “No need to get your knickers in a knot. You deserve a night to yourself.”

“Oh well thanks. I will...with Dawn and Clem.”

He pushed closer to her and tilted his head. “New perfume?” he asked.

“Oh um, bodywash,” she answered nervously. He was so close, he had practically pinned her against the kitchen island. He rested his hands on either side of her hips, gripping the countertop. “Dawn bought it for me. Apparently the crime scene people use it.”

“Smells nice,” he complimented, “Even with that ringing endorsement.”

“No d-doublemeat?” she stuttered.

He leaned in and sniffed her neck. Buffy fought the urge to grab onto him, instead balling her fists in her sweatpants. His nose nudged her neck. “Not a trace,” he breathed.

Buffy did grab his sides then, pulling him against her. He growled slightly, a light animalistic noise that shot right through her. Spike ran one hand down her side and under her buttocks, lifting her leg to wrap it around his leg and under his coat. She felt it swathe her, soft, worn and achingly familiar. He pushed himself tightly against her, his hips rolling slightly into her. Buffy left out a soft moan and gripped and released his shirt. Her finger tips burst through the fabric, and her warm flesh meet his cool skin. 

He dug his fingers into the back of her thigh and wrenched her against him. Buffy smiled and let her head loll back as he began kissing her neck. He reached down with his other hand and lifted her up onto the counter. His hand wriggled its way under her tank top and pushed the shelf bra out of his way to palm her breast. 

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The chirp of the microwave broke the moment and Buffy pushed Spike’s hand away. “Popcorn,” she muttered her hands were still at his sides and her legs hung limply behind his, fluffy slippers resting lightly on his calves. He nodded and took a step back. 

“Is that popcorn I smell?” Clem asked, bustling his way into the kitchen with Dawn only a few steps behind.

Buffy hopped off the counter and quickly zipped up her jacket. “Sure is,” she said brightly, turning to stare at a knowing Clem and an oblivious Dawn. 

“Hey Spike,” Dawn said happily. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Just wanted to see if Buffy- that is- the Slayer wanted to – patrol-“ he stumbled over his words, “but she doesn’t so I-“

“Should totally stay for the taste tests!” Dawn said excitedly. “We could see if there’s a species component!” she said to Clem.

“We could add a column!”

“Um yeah, alright,” Spike said without thinking. Buffy looked up at him with disbelieving eyes. What the hell? Dawn and Clem made Wonka seem understocked and Spike was staying. She sighed and pouted as Spike grabbed the hot popcorn and flopped down on the couch. So much for her night to herself.

Spike left three hours later with a stomach ache and the unquenchable desire to wank over the sight of Buffy leaning over the coffee table. He’d whispered that leeringly as he leant over to refill her soda. Buffy almost headbutted him she stood up so quickly, loudly announcing she needed the bathroom. Now Buffy was simply emptying an obscene amount of wrappers into the kitchen bin and pretending she wasn’t watching him walk down the street. 

“So that was fun,” Dawn said, placing four glasses into the sink. 

“It was,” Buffy agreed, surprised. It had been…nice. Dawn settled herself on the island bench, looking across at her sister. 

“And,” Dawn said with faux innocence. “You and Spike seemed to be getting along.”

“No more than usual.” Buffy shrugged. 

“Kinda looked like you wanted to kiss him.”

“W-what?” Buffy stuttered, turning back to the sink, her face burning red. She busied herself with rinsing the glasses and placing them on the drying rack. Not exactly clean but no longer dirty either. “What makes you think that?”

“Just how you were in the kitchen and the way he was looking at you…”

“A world of no,” Buffy said quickly. She turned back around and fixed Dawn with her best big sister knows best look. “Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. ‘I slept with my vampire boyfriend and all I got was this lousy apocalypse’. No thanks.”

Dawn shrugged. “Spike isn’t Angel. He doesn’t do the stuff Angel does. Plus I said kiss.”

“Angel has a soul,” Buffy insisted, ignoring Dawn’s waggling eyebrows.

“So? Spike tries really hard to be good without one, even when you were gone. I just think he should get some credit.”

“Dawn…” Buffy started warningly.

“I’m not saying you have to feel something you don’t, I’m just saying that he doesn’t deserve to be dismissed just because he doesn’t a have a soul, if you do…you know, feel something…anywhere…” she moved her palm in a circle in the air, gesturing at Buffy, specifically her lower half. 

“Dawn!” Buffy cried aghast and smacked Dawn lightly with the empty popcorn bag. “Get your head out the gutter!”   
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The next day Buffy took an early lunch break from the Doublemeat. With all the emotional upheaval fighting with the gang, she had completely forgotten about the army in town quite possibly looking to hunt down Spike. She needed help and it was clear that her friends weren’t going to be the people for the job.

But just maybe, she thought as she walked into Sunnydale Police Station, she knew a couple of people who would. 

She approached the counter slowly. It was the same officer who had given her the jacket and he had thrown himself back in his chair, the wheels spinning wildly across the tile floor as soon as he had seen her. She smiled innocently and waved. 

“Um hi,” she greeted brightly, doing her best to seem nonthreatening and polite.

“What do you want?” the officer asked gruffly. He stood up, one hand on his gun and the other tucked firmly behind his back.

“I was just wondering…” She took a few steps forward and she noted his grip tightening, the gun pulling upwards. “You know, first I would just like to apologise.”

“Apologise?” he squeaked.

She nodded firmly. “Last time I was here I was tired and emotional and I may have been a little harsh with you.” She held her fingers half and inch apart and squinted at them.

He eyed her warily and she barreled on.

“I would of course, never, and I mean never, slowly break each of your fingers and be sure to pop each joint out through you skin, then twist your elbow so it permanently bent the other way. Like I said, I was just very tired and emotional and I hadn’t eaten so,” she paused to smile gravely, “I am very, very sorry. And I’m just gonna sit, way, way, waaaay over here,” she said, backing back to the chairs on the far wall. She walked until she was at the furthest one and sat down, “While you get Podge and Clert.” 

The officer didn’t release his gun but he did hurry back towards the door behind him. He fumbled with the key pad, miss keying the pin three times before finally bursting through. Buffy sat awkwardly waiting. Maybe she should have had a protein bar before she came looking for Spike’s coat. 

She only had to wait a few minutes before Clert came through the door, looking very happy to see her. At least one person seemed to like her. The officer behind the desk followed him closely, a frown etched on his face. 

“Miss Summers!” Clert greeted. “So nice to see you, Dawn going well?”

Buffy stood up, surprised at how cheery he was. “Fine thanks, she’s doing much better.”

“Good, good, glad to hear it, why don’t you comeback through and we’ll see what we can do for you?”

Mickney did his best to become one with the plaster as she passed him.

“Podge not here?” she asked, as he lead her past a small array of desks. They stopped at a shared desk, the old desktops taking up most of the space. One side was neat and organised, trays with label maker stickers organised the files into neat piles. The other looked more like someone had tripped and fallen with a stack of files, pens and what looked like a half-finished bowl of curry. 

Clert sat down behind messy side and gestured for her to sit down at a silver chair beside the desk. “No,” he responded, “His wife is a teacher and he’s helping out with career day. Apparently she gets complaints every year but every year she asks him back.”

Buffy smiled, unsure how to answer.

“That’s not a problem is it?” Clert asked, suddenly concerned.

“What? No! Of course not,” Buffy answered quickly, “I just haven’t seen you two apart, so I just assumed you would both be here.”

“I offered to come to the school,” Clert admitted, “But Podge said if I ever wanted to have children I would stay well away from him. He can be a little grouchy.” Podge opened his drawer and grabbed a notepad and small pencil. Buffy was uncharitably surprised he could find it so quickly.

“So,” he asked, his voice sounding far more professional than it had before. No longer excited and bright, he was focused and calm. “What can I do for you?”

Buffy looked around the room at the spattering of officers at their desks. She looked back to Clert and spoke quietly.

“I went to see Willy after you came to see me last week and you were right, the army is hanging around.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out an old receipt that she had scribbled the address and number plate of the couple she had followed. “And I found them here,” she handed Clert the paper. “I wanted to double check it was actually them before I just kicked their door in so I wondered if you could run it? See who owns the car and house?”

Clert took the paper and copied the information down neatly into his notepad, nodding all the while. “No problem, Miss Summers, I can do that for you.”

“It’s just Buffy.”

Clert gave her a winning smile.

“Buffy,” he repeated, happily. “And I’ll give you a call when I have any information.”

“Great,” Buffy said gratefully as she stood up. “Thank you so much.”

Clert walked her out and she smiled at Officer Mickney but that just seemed to make it worse and he ducked behind the desk with a thump. Buffy grimaced. That sounded like it hurt. 

Leaving Clert to deal with the puddle that was Officer Mickney, Buffy continued back to the Doublemeat Palace, she was late and was going to be written up but such was the life of the slayer, always getting demerits in life for following her calling. She sighed as she stuffed her bag on the shelf and almost jumped when her phone beeped. She checked her phone half expecting it to be Clert already with her information. But it wasn’t. She sighed. It was Willow.   
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So a reviewer questioned whether America had constables and not being American myself I didn’t know the answer. But a seed of doubt had been planted so rather than do any kind of research I just changed it to officer in this chapter. Seemed safer. :)

Please review!


	13. Ultimatums

I faced a disaster last week where I wrote for about a couple of hours and then, for some unknown reason, my hand may have spasmed, possibly it was possessed, but darkness fell across the land. I hit ‘don’t save’ button. So poof! Away all that work went…which is my way of saying, sorry as the updates will slow down from now on. Holidays are finally here so hopefully I’ll get a bit more done then but yeah, I almost cried.

Chapter 13 As You Are   
Ultimatums

Buffy ignored the closed sign on the Magic Box and walked in. The scoobies were already huddled around the table and abruptly stopped speaking when the bell jangled. Buffy sighed. Nothing suspicious about that. 

“Buffy,” Willow greeted excitedly. She stood bolt upright, her seat tottering behind her. “You came!”

“You asked me to,” Buffy said, still a little wary.

“I know but after last time...” she left the sentence trail off. “Anyway, tonight is not going to be like that. We promise. Don’t we, Xander?” Willow finished significantly. 

Buffy wondered exactly how long Xander had been here. By the look on his face, he had tried and lost every argument he could think of and though not exactly here under distress, he wasn’t happy about it either. He was slouched in his chair but he kept his eyes on Buffy as she made her way across to the table where the gang was already seated. 

“I may have lost my cool last time,” he admitted. “Didn’t give you a proper chance to talk. That was wrong of me.” The words were stilted but his face was sincere. Buffy slid into the seat next to Tara, Anya greeted her with a tight, bright smile. Tara reached out and grasped her hand under the table. Buffy smiled at her and had to mentally remind herself not to squeeze her hand too hard. She’d injured more than one person with an over-enthusiastic handshake in her time.

Willow took a deep breath. “Buffy,” she started formally. Buffy looked across the table at her. “We don’t want to attack you or make you think that we don’t trust your judgment because we do! Don’t we, Xand?” Xander nodded his head emphatically. “It’s just we don’t know what’s going on with…everything.” Willow finished lamely, not wanting to finish her thought. She looked over at Xander encouragingly. 

“Buffy, I really am concerned,” Xander started. His arms rested on the table in front of her and his body was still. “Spike has killed two slayers and although I have complete confidence in you, he’s always walked away from a fight with you…except for that one time he rolled.” He smiled nostalgically. 

“And you were always a bit beat up,” Willow piped up. “You had massive bruises on your back.”

“Yeah,” Buffy remembered with a pained frown, “Thank god he can’t afford steel cap boots anymore.”

“And if he can do that to Riley, what’s the stop him turning on you? He threw you across the room like it was nothing.”

“I know, that the chip was working,” Willow cut in, “but he managed to take out both of you before he couldn’t go anymore. It would just take a small pain spell or, or-”

“Spike isn’t going to turn on me,” Buffy squeezed Tara’s hand carefully. “He would have done it already.”

“You can’t know that,” Xander insisted. “He’s had the chip for a while, what if he’s just getting used to it?”

“No,” Buffy clarified. “I mean that he would have done it by now because he can hur-hit me. Since I came back.” She dropped Tara’s hand. She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “Since I came back, he can hit me.”

“What?” Willow asked shocked. Anya and Xander stared at her, mouths agape.

“It-it’s nothing,” Tara said in a rush, “I looked into it and she’s Buffy but with transfer she changed just enough to confuse the chip. Like bad cosmic sunburn.” She did her best to send Buffy an encouraging smile. Buffy looked down at the table. “Same old Buffy, slightly different molecules.”

Willow sat in silence, guilt all over her face. Xander stared at her.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, his eyes boring into her protectively hunched form.

Buffy shrugged. “You all wanted me to be okay so badly, I just didn’t know how to tell you I came back wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Tara said forcefully. “You didn’t come back wrong.”

“I agree with Tara,” Anya said decisively. “Summoning Osiris is powerful magics, makes perfect sense it would leave a mark. Be far stranger if you were still normal.”

“You talked to Tara? And Spike?” Willow said, a tear making its way down her cheek. Xander looked shattered, he stared at her unblinking. Buffy shifted in her seat fighting the urge to run away.

“You could have talked to us,” he insisted softly. “We would have understood.”

Buffy didn’t respond to that. “I’m not saying this to worry you or to make you feel bad,” she assured them, “I just want you to know that you’re safe from Spike. He can’t hurt you. The chip is still working fine and the circumstances with Riley aren’t going to happen again. Besides, I don’t think I can kill him,” Buffy admitted.

“Sure you can, Buff,” Xander chirped, trying to put on the face of the plucky Xander everyone expected of him. “You’ve always had the upper hand.”

“I mean I don’t want to.” Buffy looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t think I can because I rely on him too much. I’m sorry if you don’t like it but I do. Even before I came back, he was always there and I got used to that. I don’t want to kill him. I’m not asking you to like him, but I am telling you to back off because,” she stopped and sighed. “I’m not sure I could cope without him yet…on patrol,” she added quickly. “He’s saved my skin more than I’d like. Haven’t been quite as on my game as I should be.” 

“You should have told us,” Willow said, “We would have come with you, watched your back.”

“Yes,” Anya cut in before Buffy could reply. “Splitting the attention of an already distracted slayer is always going to end well. I for one will be staying home and not leading Buffy to yet another untimely death.”

“We’ve always helped Buffy patrol,” Willow said defensively. “None of us has ever once been killed!” She looked at Buffy for support. 

Buffy shifted in her seat. “Don’t get me wrong,” Buffy said placatingly, “I love having your help but having someone as strong as Spike around kind of relieves some pressure. If he’s cornered, I don’t have to help him I just figure he can get himself out.”

Xander broke in quickly. “That’s exactly what we mean, Buff. He could so easily be a threat to you, especially if he can hurt you!”

“If he does become a threat - a real threat,” she said forcefully cutting Xander off from what was bound to be an exhausting argument, “Then I will do whatever I have to, but not before, okay?”

Willow and Xander sat staring at Buffy, neither sure what to say. Tara looked between them. Willow had wiped away her tears but still bore the tell-tale smudge of mascara under her eye, while Xander simply looked tired. 

“Well,” Anya, said happily. She slapped the table joyfully. “That is a relief. I’ll take the stake out from under my pillow and put it back into our sex box where it belongs.” Xander cringed. “I have not enjoyed using it for anything but sexy roleplay.” Buffy blinked, Xander flushed, Willow crinkled her nose and Tara tried to look supportive without meeting Anya’s eye. 

The others looked at Xander who shrugged and quickly tried to change the subject. “So didn’t you have a plate to run, Willow?”

“Oh I have that covered,” Buffy said cryptically. The others nodded. Now wasn’t the time. “I should go. Dawn’s waiting.” She stood and the others followed awkwardly walking her across the shop floor. 

“Buffy, wait!” Willow cried. Buffy turned around and was meet by Willow who wrapped her arms around Buffy. Buffy couldn’t help but lean into it. “I’m sorry,” Willow whispered. Buffy tightened her arms in response. It would have to be enough. Willow released her, her face patchy. Xander was behind Willow and he engulfed Buffy. His arms felt strong against her even as she knew she could break him like a dead twig. 

“I trust you,” he said as he pulled away. “I don’t like it,” he admitted, “but I trust you. And if you think Spike is your friend,” he seemed to struggle over the word, “then I’ll deal.”

Buffy sniffed and wiped away a tear of her own. “Thank you.”

The door jangled and closed with Xander and Willow silently watching Buffy leave. They turned back to the girls and Xander sat down heavily in his chair letting out a long sigh and dropping his head into hands. 

Tara smiled at them lightly. “I think you two handled that very well,” she complimented. It was not what she had expected.

Willow nodded happily at the praise and looked at Tara shyly.

“Yes,” Anya cut in, ending the moment between Willow and Tara, “I for one am shocked at Xander’s level of maturity. I was expecting another screaming match, and an angry Xander and although I would usually say that angry sex is welcome, Xander tends to underperform in such situations. And I can’t have that with our wedding night so close!”

Xander didn’t look up but rather let his head fall onto the table with a thump. “Thanks, Ahn,” he mumbled into the table.

“No,” Willow said indignantly. “I expected it. We love Buffy…not is a sex way,” she clarified, scrunching up her nose at Anya. Anya shrugged. 

Xander looked up at Willow and she gasped at his red lined eyes and the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. She rushed to his side and put her arm around him, he leaned into her. “I am not threated,” Anya informed Tara quietly.

“When did we become the people she couldn’t tell things to? When did we become the people she was afraid of?”

“We’re not,” she assured him, rubbing his arm. “She just needs some time.”

Xander scoffed. “You maybe,” he said, “but me? She’s always kept things from me. I’m always the last to know.”

Willow paused uncomfortably and settled for making small soothing noises rather than acknowledging what he had said. Xander stiffened under her touch. “Willow?”

Willow wouldn’t meet his eyes and seemed to flounder for words, beginning her sentence silently, and pulling it back from the world.

“What?” Xander demanded. He took her hand lightly in his. Anya and Tara looked away, feeling as though they were intruding on a private moment. At least Tara did.

“It’s just…” Willow looked back helplessly at Tara and Anya. Tara gave her a small encouraging smile while Anya found herself suddenly interested in dusting the bookshelf behind them. There were somethings even she couldn’t say to Xander, they’d fight and then he would be all flaccid and passive aggressive.

“Well it just – you see – you’ve never really – and I don’t think you mean to – I mean I know you had that crush,” Willow rambled, “but that was years ago and I’m not even sure why I’m bringing it up right now,” she laughed awkwardly. “Because that just not fair but I think it does explain why you-sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes can be a little …judgemental over Buffy’s dating choices.”

Xander stared at her. “What does that mean? And what does that have to do with Spike? She’s not dating Spike. Don’t make me picture that!” He shuddered dramatically.

“See,” Willow said with a point of her finger, “that’s what I mean. You can be maybe - sometimes be a little, a smidge really, harsh and entitled,” she finished quickly, the words rolling together. “You tend to tell her what to do.”

“Friends give advice,” he defended, “You give me advice all the time. About lots of things.”

“Yes,” Willow acknowledged. Xander was looking at her imploringly. His eyes were red and wide, his face sad and drawn. He wasn’t the Xander who would do the snoopy dance for her now. He was small and confused and Willow didn’t want to be the person to do this. To shatter him but she had to. She was his best friend and she had to. For Buffy and maybe even for Anya. 

“Yes,” she repeated. “But I don’t get angry and mean if you don’t follow my advice and I don’t always let you know that I don’t like your decision. I also don’t throw it in your face if something goes wrong.”

“What? When? I don’t do that!”

“Like when Angel come back from hell,” Willow pointed out softly. “You made a lot of not nice and kind of shame-y comments.”

“Because he was dangerous! It was just because he was dangerous. I’m fine when they’re not dangerous. I like Riley- liked Riley,” he corrected hastily. “I was support-o-man all the time!”

Willow looked at him sympathetically. “Because you knew he was never going to last, not really. He was too… Riley.”

“Too Riley?” he repeated. “Nice, dependable…?”

“He expected Buffy to be less than she is. To be weaker and not just in a fight. He wanted her to… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Have a stick up her ass as big as his?” Anya offered from across the room. 

Willow frowned, no. “You could match up to Riley, even if you don’t want to be with Buffy romantically anymore, you were still on an even playing field with Riley. He was just a human man like you. But you couldn’t compete with Angel, and you’ve kind of put Spike in the same box because he is like her: strong, supernatural and with these big grand destinies, and I think Spike understands her in a way we don’t, always has, and you don’t like that. Either did Riley. Always afraid he was going to lose her to it.”

“But Sam is strong and he married her!” Xander pointed out confidently. Willow sighed. 

“She’s also half his size, human and with less army experience than him, plus I’m pretty sure he’s her boss. No real risk of being outshone, besides, this isn’t really about Riley.”

“You and Buffy have been stronger than me for ages, and Anya has way more demon knowledge. I don’t care about that.”

Willow frowned. He wasn’t getting it. She didn’t know how to explain it to him, to make him see how he acted around Buffy sometimes. Or maybe he was getting it and just didn’t want to admit it. Willow hoped it was the former, if he knew and was doing nothing about it, then she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. “You understand this world, Sunnydale, demons, hellmouths, good demons and bad ones.”

“There aren’t good demons that’s why they’re called demons!” Xander was on the verge of shouting now. 

“You used Clem’s name just yesterday to get cheap wings!” Anya exclaimed, duster held threateningly out in front of her. “And I was a very productive member of society when I was a demon. Fulfilled a vital role,” she muttered. “Not that anyone appreciates it.”

Xander paused, latching on the distraction of Clem and his chicken wing recommendations. “You’ve gotta hand it to him, demon knows his chicken, the sauce.” He smacked his lips. “Best I’ve ever tasted. Okay maybe Clem isn’t too bad,” he admitted.

“Exactly, and maybe,” Willow ventured softly. “Either is Spike. Not anymore. Maybe he really is her friend? And maybe we just have to accept it and be a little nicer about it all.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean ‘me’ right?” Xander clarified. He drummed his fingers on the table nervously. 

“I think we could all stand to be a little less self-righteous and accept that Buffy might be right about him,” Willow said diplomatically. “And that we don’t have any right to tell her what she does with her life and who she can spend time with... not if we want to be some of those people.”

“I don’t mean to,” Xander breathed, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “You know, I think that makes it worse that she’s not dating Spike,” Xander admitted. “Who am I if she had to hide a friend from me?” He looked around the room imploringly, desperate for someone to tell him the answer. 

None of the women could give him an answer.

00000000000000000000000000000

Buffy felt drained. Things weren’t back to normal with her, Willow and Xander but a bandaid had been put on the festering wound and that would have to do. The cracks between them weren’t going to be filled with one conversation and a hug but it was a start. At least it was all out in the open and they were actually communicating. They were her best friends and she had to make sure they stayed that way. Especially with Xander’s wedding this weekend. She had to be there to see Xander get married. She didn’t know what she would do without them. 

But a part of her answered unbidden, survive. 

Buffy pushed down the guilt.

When she finally got to Revello drive she felt like she could sleep for a week but as usual sleep would have to wait. Spike was waiting for her on the front steps and he didn’t look happy. 

Spike rose to his feet, a scowl set deep on his face. 

“Slayer,” he greeted with a nod. “Got a problem.”

Buffy sighed. “Please tell me it’s that you could find no demons to kill and there are too many puppies and kittens and rainbows because I don’t have time for you tonight.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open heavily. Spike scowled at her back. Buffy left the door open as she walked through and flopped down onto the couch, paying now attention to Spike’s annoyed glare. Buffy curled up, her head resting on the arm. She hugged a pillow to her chest wishing it was Mr. Gordo. Spike followed her in and shut the door behind him. He sat down on the lounge room table, his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on knees. He gazed at her seriously and launched into his problem

“Was out by the Crestfall Cemetery,” Spike began. Buffy crinkled her nose. “I know there’s nothing there usually but got a tip it was being used by a turn happy vamp as a dumping ground. So I got there and there was nothing.” Buffy stared at him too tired to contribute. If he wanted audience participation he was going to have to find Dawn. 

“And I mean nothing,” Spike reiterated finally, curling his bottom lip at her slightly. “No vamps, no demons, no new graves, no smell, nothing. Not a bloody thing.”

“That’s weird,” Buffy admitted, not moving from her spot on the couch.

“I couldn’t smell anything that night either, just heard them. I forgot until tonight but then a bloody taser hit me and they came bursting out of every bloody corner. Haven’t been caught like that in a long time.”

Buffy unfurled herself, feeling suddenly awake. Spike was sloppy and inattentive sometimes, sure, but he was never disturbed by a mob. He usually found them quite invigorating and enjoyed the fact that he could escape them or take them out. Spike loved a brawl, the more outnumbered the better. He didn’t turn up on her doorstep worried and uncharacteristically serious. Sure, the Initiative had captured him, but he was hardly at his best. Never was when he was heartbroken. 

“Lucky the second taser pin didn’t get through me coat or I would have been gone,” Spike continued, annoyance colouring his voice. “Took off over the fence before they could close too far in. They put god knows how many bullets in the wall before I got off. Put a hole in my bloody good jeans.” 

“Where’d you get the tip from?”

“Bloke I was playing poker with.”

“You lose?”

Spike paused. “Took him for a small fortune.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “That didn’t strike you as strange.”

Spike looked offended. “I’m not that bad.”

“You were hunted by a shark headed demon, like really, who can take that seriously?”

Spike shook his head in annoyance. “Can you bloody focus for a minute.”

Buffy blushed. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just tired. So you don’t know who set you up?”

“I’d wager it was the boy.”

Buffy thought back to Riley, bruised and wired shut in his hospital bed. No way he was up for an operation like that yet. Hell, he would be struggling to breathe with flinching. “He was hardly in a position to do anything,” she said finally.

“Boy has the bloody armed forced behind him, America’s finest order following bellends who wouldn’t bloody question coming after a vamp who almost took out one of their own.”

“I’m working on it,” Buffy told him. “Clert and Podge are running a licence plate for me to see who owns a house-”

“I don’t rightly care, Slayer,” Spike said seriously, cutting her off. “This isn’t a plea for help, don’t need saving, this is me giving you the chance to handle it or I will.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “What are you gonna do? Insult them so much that they leave town?”

“I was thinking more offering a reward for their heads but could probably take em’ alive and insult em’ a bit too.”

Buffy blanched. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Something in Spike snapped. He stood up slowly, a mass of black unfurling threateningly before her. He looked down at Buffy, his head tilted to the side. His usually bright eyes looked down at her coldly and threateningly. He was sizing her up like she had seen him do so many times before, flexing for a fight. His jaw was tight and his fists were clenched dangerously at his sides. 

“As you have pointed out, Slayer,” he said slowly, “I’m an evil, soulless monster- a thing-” He leaned down, his nose an inch from hers. Completely still. He didn’t touch her, there was no breath, if she closed her eyes it would be impossible to know that he was there. His eyes bored into hers and she couldn’t help but look away. The judgment in his blue eyes was too much for her to take. She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked down at her legs. “So if it comes down to me or them, you better bloody believe that I will make damn sure there isn’t a soldier left in Sunnydale that doesn’t piss their pants at the mention of my name.”

He stalked off, wrenching the door hard enough to stress the hinge. “Handle it, Slayer.” 

Buffy flinched as the door slammed.

0000000000000000000


	14. Help Wanted

I originally had this as two chapters, but I thought as I hadn’t updated in a while I would make it one big one. Hope you enjoy it and please review!

As You Are   
Chapter 14: Help Wanted

Buffy trudged into the police station her feet aching. She could be in bed, in a nice warm bubble bath or even curled up on the couch with a plate of fluffy eggs but once again she was protecting freaking Riley from Spike. When did it end?

She had text Podge as soon as Spike left, hoping to rush their search. Podge had called her back almost immediately. He knew Clert had found something but unfortunately it was on Clert’s desk and he didn’t have a hope in hell of finding it without Clert’s help. So here she was at 8am on a Friday morning at the Sunnydale Police Station to investigate this further. 

She was glad when Mickney wasn’t on the desk and the officer had waved her through happily, greeting her with a bright smile and offers of coffee or tea. She was given a visitor’s sticker and lead to Podge and Clert, who seemed to be engaged in an argument about fish sticks.

Buffy felt like she was in the middle of one of Anya and Xander’s fights. She smiled awkwardly as they turned to her.

“Sorry,” Clert apologised with a blush. “We found an empty box of fish sticks at a break and enter, and Podge doesn’t think it’s a lead worth following.”

“Because we both know how its going to pan out,” he said gruffly. He sat heavily on his chair and wrote something down quickly in his notebook. “But Miss Summers didn’t come all the way down here to play marriage counsellor, get the woman her information.”

“Right,” Clert said, hurriedly sifting through files on his desk. One of the piles fell and he lurched forward to catch them, piling them back haphazardly on his desk. The oversized pile swayed and he pushed it back quickly, the files pushed onto Podge’s desk. He opened the drawer and brushed an arm full of mess into it. Buffy watched him with wide eyes. Podge straightened his pen tin, making sure the blues weren’t mingling with the red. Clert finally pulled out a thin stack of purple post it notes triumphantly. Podge rolled his eyes. 

“That’s an interesting filing system you have there,” Buffy said with raised eyebrows.

“I’ve never lost anything,” Clert defended himself cheekily. 

“Might not always be clean though,” Podge muttered. Buffy thought it was a little harsh considering there was already a coffee stain on his shirt, but she kept her mouth shut. They were the only two people in this town who just wanted to help her. There were no fights or lectures, nor strange tingly feelings that lead to very poor decision making. Just help when she needed it. 

“Anyway,” Clert said loudly, glaring slightly at Podge. “I looked into the address you gave me and I found something.”

Podge leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed across his chest. Buffy looked between them. “It’s not good is it?” 

“Well it could be worse,” Podge said with a shrug. “This is the Hellmouth after all.”

Clert blustered into his explanation. “I found the property and the car was owned by the same corporation so I looked into it and found 8 more properties registered in their name, scattered around Sunnydale. One is just up the street from you.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “We don’t think that’s a coincidence,” Podge told her. “One is also just up from Restfield.”

“So they’re watching me and Spike,” Buffy said.

Podge nodded. “One’s also near the Magic Box, one near Willy’s and I’d bet that if we went through the other addresses, they’d be conveniently near where you and yours frequent.”

“I had one of the techs (“Our only tech,” Podge muttered) trace the company that owns the buildings,” Clert continued. “She found that it’s a shell corporation, owned by another one, owned another one, owned by none other than the US Army.”

“They could have more around the place owned by them under different names, so whatever you want to do, I suggest you do it soon. No telling how many they’ll bring here.”

“So why haven’t they done anything?” Buffy asked confused. “I mean they kind of made a move against Spike last night but it barely left a mark.” Buffy rubbed her forehead, she could feel a tension headache coming on. None of this was making sense. They clearly had plenty of money and resources so why hadn’t they taken her or Spike out already?

“If you ask me,” Podge said as if he could read her mind, “They want to make sure they don’t piss you off. Have to take Spike when he’s alone and make sure you can’t trace it back to them.”

“Spike got a tip from a poker game,” Buffy said slowly. “Smart, he does that all the time… Course usually he doesn’t win.”

“And after the Initiative, they know how valuable you can be and how vital you are to protecting the Hellmouth.”

Buffy nodded, not really sure if she believed that. Even as Adam took over the Initiative their employees didn’t seem to understand just how this world actually worked. They wanted it to fall into neat little boxes but it never did. Good and evil wasn’t as easy as identifying a species, you had to look deeper than that and they were never interested in seeing demons as anything more than monsters. Thinking about that had made Buffy think about her own thought processes and how it changed over the years. When she was first called she killed anything her watcher said was bad but the more she learnt, the more she realised she couldn’t just do that. The only demons she could guarantee were dangerous to humans were vampires…and even then there were exceptions, rare though they may be. She inhabited a murky mess and they just didn’t. Black and white. Spike bad, army good was as far as they were getting. 

“How am I supposed to take down 9 safe houses in one go?” Buffy asked lost. “It’s not like I can just magic them into the one spot.”

“Couldn’t Willow help with doing something like that?” Clert asked.

“No,” Buffy said with a sigh, “She’s kind of an ex-witch at the moment.”

“Maybe a trap?” Clert offered brightly. “Draw them out somewhere.”

But Buffy wasn’t listening. Ex-witch. Willow was an ex-witch and Anya was an ex-demon. But when she was a demon, she could teleport. Cross nations in a blink of an eye. She needed a vengeance demon and conveniently there were some in threatening distance tomorrow.

“I might have an idea,” Buffy told the officers. “I don’t need to take out 9 safe houses I just have to get them all to one. If I could just get D'Hoffryn alone during the reception I could ask him…but I can’t let Anya know, she’ll kill me. The amount of planning that has gone into this wedding.” Buffy’s eyes widened comically. An apocalypse seemed like a friendly alternative to the hell Anya would put her though if she ruined her magical special day. 

“Or,” Podge interrupted her mutterings calmly. “You could just summon him with his talisman today.” He reached into his drawer and Buffy was not surprised to see it too was neatly organised and he passed her a metal talisman. It fit neatly in the palm of Buffy’s hand. She stared at the ornate metal. It was round at the bottom with raised lines curling up to a point. She rubbed her fingers over the silver inlay. It didn’t feel like anything to her.

“And you’re sure it’s D'Hoffryn’s talisman?” Buffy asked, twirling the talisman in her hand.

“Certain,” Podge said confidently. “Had his business card taped to the back.” 

“Oh,” Buffy said taking the proffered card. “Well that seems sloppy.”

“Guess it’s hard to recruit in a small town,” Clert said. “Gotta make sure you get your message across.” 

Buffy looked at the card. “’Vengeance’,” she read, “’You feel it, we deal it’. Really?” Podge shrugged. She turned the card over, tiny writing seemed to outlay a complex process. She squinted at the business card, “Either of you have any Himalayan rock salt? That stuffs expensive!”

000000000000000

Two hours and one trip to The Magic Box via the tunnels (what Anya didn’t know was stolen wouldn’t hurt her) and Buffy was set up to summon D’Hoffryn. She studied the card again. She had among other things: candles, the salt, eye of salamander (Willow always said they worked just as well as newt), a canary feather, and some really smelly sand. She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

The card laid out a complex series of steps that had to be completed in order. She laid the sand out, repeating the incantation as she copied the symbol on the card. Her candle flame flared blue as she sat behind the sandy symbol. It looked to Buffy kind of like the superman logo. She crossed her legs and reached for the feather. She touched it lightly to the flame and the flame jumped hot and green to the feather, burning brightly while the feather stayed firmly yellow and intact. She used the magic unburning flame to light the salamander eyes and used a dagger of hers (which she had already blessed with some other smelly sand and a weed she couldn’t work out how to pronounce.) to make a drop of her blood fall onto the mess of animal bits.

Pink smoke exploded in 3-foot-high plumes causing Buffy to cough and bat the smoke away from her face. Suddenly, blue lightening cracked through the air and Buffy found herself sitting on the floor of a black dimension. Darkness seemed to go on forever. The only thing there was D’Hoffryn who stood in front of her, his back turned and arms spread out. His cloak fell down his back and hung like wings from his arms.

“You have summoned the great and powerful D’Hoffryn,” his voice boomed around the empty space. Buffy wondered whether there was anything but black in this dimension or if it was an Oz situation and a perfectly normal demon dimension lay just behind the curtain. 

“I am the lord of Arashmaharr, he that turns the air to blood and rains death upon all who dare cross him.” He began to turn slowly, his arms still spread out. He appeared to be floating. “My name reeks of vengeance, the mere utterance- oh Slayer.” He looked utterly disappointed and despondent to see her there. His shoulders slumped and his arms fell heavily by his side.

Buffy waved. “Hi,” she said brightly. 

He stalked over to her, suddenly no longer gliding. Buffy got to her feet. She wished she was wearing shoes. The demon towered over her. She wondered if he could make himself taller in this dimension. 

“What are you summoning me for?” he asked suspiciously. “I doubt you have chosen to join my ranks.” He stopped and looked her over. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Though you do reek of pain. Good devil girl, it’s coming off you in waves. You stink of it.”

“That could be the grease,” Buffy muttered. “No, I don’t want to be a vengeance demon, pretty firmly anti, but I do need your help.”

“Vengeance demons serve neither dark nor light. We serve only vengeance,” he pronounced regally.

“Even you have to admit you learn more to the evil side of the coin,” Buffy probed, unable to control herself. “I mean when does vengeance not hurt people?”

“We do not create the desire for vengeance. We do not force the wish, we simply grant it.”

“Yeah but you do pervert it,” Buffy pointed out stubbornly. ““I wish people would stop leaving me” turns into trapped forever in a house with a stabby demon. Not really the intent of the wish.”

D’Hoffryn glared down at her. “We are not responsible for humans’ whims and if you persist in this line of questioning I shall return you to your dimension.”

Buffy held up her hands in acquiesce. “Touchy,” she muttered.

“Your status as The Slayer is the only thing saving you from a swift dismissal.”

Buffy sobered up. She had to stop running her mouth! But sometimes that thing just had a mind of its own. How was she meant to stand here and not point out the flaws in his theory? 

“Like I said, I need your help.”

“And yet you mock me.”

“If I acknowledge that is a flaw in my character can we move on?” she asked hopefully. 

D’Hoffryn nodded but didn’t exactly look like he was keen to agree. His shoulders were tense and his face firm. 

“The Army is slowly buying up Sunnydale and want to take Spike and do god knows what else.”

“And how exactly is that my problem?”

Buffy faltered. She hadn’t got this far in her plan yet. She just knew she needed a few vengeance demons and she could handle the rest. She hadn’t thought about how she was going to convince him to help her. Usually she just introduced herself and things kind of just happened. Or she could glare. She looked up at the towering D’Hoffryn. She didn’t think a glare would do it with the Lord of …Arashmakrasahaket? 

“You don’t want to army sniffing around anymore than I do, so if you lend me 8 itty bitty vengeance demons - -who will remain completely unharmed,” she added hastily at the look on his face. “I can make sure they don’t bother us or you again.”

“They’re not bothering me now,” he said with a raised eyebrow. He clicked his fingers and an elegant arm chair appeared. He folded himself down into it, his arm gliding across the arm. 

“Ok,” Buffy said awkwardly. She floundered. “But they- they could!” she said with a flourish. D’Hoffryn’s eyebrows raised even further. “They could,” Buffy insisted. “If-if they worked out how to get here.” Buffy pursed her lips. D’Hoffryn watched her. 

“Please,” she tried.

“No.”

“Oh come on.” 

“No.”

“What about if I wished that you helped me?”

“Certainty not. It would taint the proud industry I have been in for a millennia!”

Buffy sighed. “But I’m The Slayer,” she whined.

“And if I were some bottom dweller who would succumb to a poultry splinter that might concern me,” he sneered.

Buffy tilted her head. An idea suddenly occurring to her. She wasn’t a threat to D’Hoffryn. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what he was. He could poof out of her way faster than she could throw a punch. But everything had a weakness. Everything. No matter how strong, how tough, how big; they all had a weakness. Drusilla, glowing green battery, ego. It didn’t matter. All you had to do was find the weakness and exploit it. 

Buffy’s face hardened. 

“I may not be a threat to you, D'Hoffryn,” Buffy said dangerously. She walked up to him, hands on her hips. It annoyed her that she was still looking him in the eye even as he sat and she stood, but she glared her hardest all the same. “But I can kill Vengeance demons and I will make it my mission to track down every one of your girls and put swords through their chests. I will take their power sources and smash them into a million tiny pieces. You might not think much of having the army for an enemy, but I promise you, you don’t want to make one of me.”

D'Hoffryn stared at her, contemplating the threat. His lips were pursed and he crossed his arms across his chest. His sleeves flowed down his body menacingly. They seemed to ripple in the strange absence of light. 

“Don’t you have quotas to meet?” she pressed. “Kinda hard to dole out the vengeance if all your girls are looking over their shoulders.”

He sighed and uncrossed his arms. He spoke haughtily. “I’ll have you know that I have diversified in this modern market. Four percent of my demons are male and I have a plan to increase that to 12 in the next five years.”

 

“Very…progressive of you,” Buffy complimented. “So we have a deal?”

“Yes, you can have your 8 demons, simply summon me with my talisman and I will give the order.”

“So I have to go through the whole process again?” Buffy moaned. “There was like a hundred steps!”

“Oh no, that’s just to make sure they want it. Just say my name three times while holding my talisman and I will appear. I found I kept missing the call when it was one and two seemed a little sad, so three it is.” 

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Buffy tipped the last of the mess in her room into the bin and looked happily around. There was still a strange smell in the air and her room still smelt a little singed but overall, nothing was worse for wear. She surveyed her room critically. Maybe she should take Spike up on his offer to help her decorate.

Buffy busied herself around the house; doing the laundry, washing the dishes, sharpening her swords, painting her nails, normal day off things, until night fell. She left Dawn with a cheese toastie and a kiss on the forehead and headed out to patrol.

She meandered around the cemetery, making a conscious effort not to look for Spike. He had no reason to be here, wasn’t his cemetery but she her slayer instincts were still one edge, searching for him in the darkness. She should have known it was tempting fate as before too long, she felt the tell-tale tingle rush up her spine. It was Spike, she was sure of it, but he wasn’t alone. 

He was laughing as he kicked a vampire square in the stomach. The vamp doubled over in pain but recovered quickly, more quickly than either Buffy or Spike anticipated, and he rushed at Spike, knocking him off his feet. The vampire was on top of Spike, fist at the ready when Buffy sprinted over. Spike’s laugh turned into a grunt of pain as the fist connected with his jaw. Buffy reached the grappling pair just as Spike began to gain the upper hand. Buffy raised her arm to slam her stake into the vampire’s back as Spike, half raised from the ground, pulled back his arm for a damaging blow. Buffy’s stake hit its target and the vamp begun to dust right as Spike’s fist rocketed up. It blew through the dust, shattering the vamp’s fragile jaw into a million tiny pieces before continuing up and landing with a sickening crunch on Buffy’s nose. Buffy cried out and she was slammed onto her back with the force of his punch. Her hands grasped at her face, catching the blood that was spurting from her nose.

“Slayer?” Spike asked confused. He got to his feet quickly and bent down beside her. She sat up and let her head hang a bit, coughing at the taste of blood that had already rolled down the back of her throat. Spike pulled at her hands. She let them drop and he got his first look at her face. Blood was splattered all across it, it was running down her chin and smudged up her cheeks. It was still running freely in red torrents over her lips. 

“I think you broke it!” Buffy accused trying to glare at him through her tear-soaked eyes. It was hardly the worst pain she had ever been in but for some reason her nose seemed directly connected to her tear ducts.

“Some might call that karma,” Spike said distractedly as he ran his fingers along either side of her nose. She wrenched her head away from him and left out an undignified squeak. “Needs to be set,” he told her. He reached out again and she closed her eyes as his finger tips brushed her face. Without warning he snapped the cartilage back into place. Buffy swore loudly but it felt marginally better. 

“Should heal up fine,” Spike said, brushing his bloodied hands on his jeans. He stood up and offered her his hand stiffly. She took it and he hauled her unceremoniously to her feet. “Back to your usual self in no time. Though I’d wager you’ll have one hell of a shiner.”

 

He turned to walk away from her and Buffy’s heart leap into her throat. “Wait!” she blurted out. Buffy mentally kicked herself. He turned around and faced her. 

“Karma?” she questioned. “You don’t really seem them Buddhist type.”

“Just a phrase, Slayer,” he replied, slightly confused by her, “Seeing as you like to use my nose for target practise, seems only fair that I finally get one back.”

“I don’t hit you in the nose that much,” Buffy said, rubbing at her lip and smearing even more blood across her cheek. It seemed to have stopped actively bleeding but there was the latent trickle still tickling her lip. She spat excess blood onto the ground.

“Right,” Spike scoffed. “Whatever you like to tell yourself, Slayer.”

“I don’t!” she insisted. “Really only if I need information.”

“Or if you’re feeling a bit down, or guilty for liking a bit of cold comfort or-“ Spike began listing on his fingers.

“I don’t hit you that much,” Buffy interrupted, rolling her shoulders awkwardly. The material of her jacket shifted around her neck stiflingly. “I don’t.”

“Right,” he said sceptically, scarred eyebrow raised. “My mistake, my nose must be breaking itself. Glad we got that cleared up.” He swivelled and left her standing alone amongst the headstones. She breathed nosily through her mouth as she watched him stalk through the graveyard. Her feet made the decision before her brain got any say in the matter. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. She looked down at where her hand was wrapped under his arm, the leather of his duster cool against her fingertips but she dropped his arm as if it burned all the same. 

“Do I really hit you that much?” she asked, not quite making eye contact.

“Seem to remember being left half conscious in an alley way not that long ago.”

Buffy’s face burned. “But I-“ she started. “I mean, that was – I’m not going to do that again,” she finished firmly.

Spike smiled at her slightly. “It’s alright, love. You’re in pain, I can see it, and if a round of kick the Spike makes you feel better then it’s a small price to pay.”

Buffy stared at him, mouth agape. Her mind whirred with all the times she had hit him. All the times she had lashed out at him. Her back catalogue made her stomach churn.

“Do I-“ she started meekly. She swallowed. “Do I hit you more than I did? Since I came back,” she clarified.

“Well, yeah,” Spike said as if it were obvious. “But like I said, you’re in pain so it’s alright.”

“It’s not alright!” Buffy yelled. “That’s not me. That’s not-“ Buffy shook her head, searching for words. She took a choked breath. “It’s not alright, Spike.”

Spike shrugged and looked at the ground. He scuffed his boot and sniffed. “Not like I can’t fight back if I want to,” he told her. “Not the first slayer I’ve danced with, remember.”

“You don’t normally hit me that hard,” Buffy admitted. 

Spike shrugged. “Don’t really want to hurt you.”

“Really?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “I’m not bloody doing this again.”

“Right, sorry, I didn’t mean,” she floundered. “I just didn’t realise you were holding back quite so much.”

Spike shrugged again. “I don’t when it counts.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I won’t do it anymore, hit you, I mean. That’s not – I can’t. Spike, I’m sorry.”

It felt hollow. She meant it, she really did. She didn’t want to be that person. She didn’t want to take her pain out on the people around her. She didn’t want him to expect a fist to the face every time she had a bad day. But it felt inadequate. Her tongue was so unused to the words that she didn’t feel she was infusing it with the right emotion. She didn’t even know if she knew what it was supposed to sound like. But this, this was behaviour that she had condemned others for. People like Snyder and Pete the wannabe Dr. Jekyll, and Warren…Angelus. She swallowed thickly. They were the type to beat on others to get their jollies off, not her. It couldn’t be her. She wouldn’t let it be her. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated into the silence awkwardly. 

Spike nodded. He cleared his throat. “You should get home and get cleaned up. You’re gonna draw all sorts of nasties with that.” He gestured to her face. “Smell you a mile off.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed hastily. Last thing she needed was to be hunted by a pack of vamps as well as the army. “Oh!” she said suddenly. She had forgotten with the nose breakage. “Be careful near your crypt,” Buffy warned. “The army have a bunch of properties all around Sunnydale and they’re watching us.”

Spike cocked his head to the side. “And just how do you know that?”

Spike walked her home as she told him about Podge and Clert, the information they had found for her and her new plan to deal with the army after the wedding. He left her with a nod of his head and a sly smile at the tree in front of her house, her protests at his promise to be there when it happened dying on her lips.

Inside she fumbled around the kitchen, looking in cupboards and behind cans, jars and boxes. The noise drew Dawn downstairs. 

“You’re home early,” she said happily. “What are you looking for?”

“Willow’s god-awful healing tea,” Buffy told her, her back still turned to Dawn. 

“It’s in the fridge,” Dawn told her. “It disturbs me that dried ingredients need to be kept in the fridge, but Willow just said it preserves some of the more potent magics.”

“Oh good,” Buffy said as she closed the cupboard and turned to head for the fridge. Dawn’s mouth dropped open at the sight. Buffy’s nose was red and swollen and a deep purple bruise extended under each eye. Blood had crusted and flaked on her face, and had run down her neck, staining her shirt. Buffy held her hard out warningly. 

“Don’t tell Anya!”

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	15. Hell's Bells

Chapter 15: Hell’s Bells  
Buffy eyed Spike from across the room. He was lounging in the doorway, not caring that no one could get by. He hadn’t bothered to dress up, his usual black on black standing out amongst the formal wear.  
She took a deep breath and went over to him. She could do this.  
He straightened up as she approached him.  
“So Anya really went through with the invite then,” she said by way of greeting.  
“I’ll have you know that I am a pivotal part of demon girl’s life.”  
Buffy smiled awkwardly. “So it would seem.”  
“Besides,” he continued, “Anya’s a good woman.” He shrugged.  
“That she is,” Buffy agreed sincerely.  
“Face looks good,” he said, flicking his hand towards her.  
She touched her nose lightly. “Willow’s tea and a very full coverage concealer can work wonders.”  
He stared at her and then smiled softly.  
“It's nice to watch you be happy. For them, even. I don't see it a lot,” he said quietly and earnestly. He tilted his head, his eyes warm with the compliment. “You glow.”  
“That’s because the dress is radioactive,” Buffy undercut good naturedly, blushing despite herself. Spike snorted but then he looked at her deeply and scuffed his feet.  
“Anyway,” he said with a sniff, “I should get going,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “Niblet mentioned a gift with tentacles which she is threatening to deal with herself…”  
“So you better go,” Buffy finished. “Dawn is bound to get in trouble.”  
“Yeah.” They stood there for a moment. Spike pushed himself off the wall and was about to pass Buffy when he stopped and turned. He reached out for her hand, his fingertips linking with hers. He pressed himself closer to her, his lips brushing her cheek almost innocently. “It’s not the dress,” he said softly. He dropped her hand and left her standing by herself looking in at the wedding. She looked over her shoulder with a small smile. She watched as Dawn handed him a neatly wrapped box that thrashed in his hands and a purple tentacle leeched out and smacked him on the nose. She shook her head and turned back. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the vicious onslaught of Xander’s relatives.  
From behind her, Willow frowned. She had been coming to see Xander and instead found a lovelorn Spike flirting with Buffy, which wasn’t a surprise in itself, but what really confused Willow was that Buffy was smiling and flirting back. Buffy didn’t smile like that anymore. Buffy’s eyes didn’t twinkle and she didn’t laugh at Spike being Spike. She didn’t find him funny and she certainly didn’t let him hold her hand and kiss her on the cheek. And what had he said that made her blush so deeply? What the hell was going on?  
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Spike kicked open the back exit, sure he could have pushed it but where was the fun in that. If he was going to be given a job he was going to do it his way. So boot met metal and the door swung open onto the shadowed back alley. There were three dumpsters lining the wall and rain was pelting down on all three of them. His first plan had been to simply dump the living present and be done with it, but the thing had all but burst out the wrappings and now he was faced with an angry bulbous purple octopus looking thing that kept trying to strangle him. The bint would kill him if he let it ruin her wedding. So instead here he was, barely shielded from the rain in a back bloody alley, looking for a weapon to kill the thing. He had thought about simply stomping on it but then he would have what he suspected to be purple goo on his boots and Anya would not be happy if he traipsed that up her perfectly cultivated aisle.  
Suddenly a puff of gas erupted from the box floating around his head in a noxious bubble. He looked down at the now fully exposed demon - it had managed to rip away and possibly eat the cardboard - and smiled. He stepped forward, the door shutting softly behind him and gripped a flailing tentacle tightly. It bulged though his fingers in what he hoped was a painful way. He smiled broadly and walked towards the dumpsters, the rain splattering on his back. “Sorry, little fish, gas isn’t exactly an effective weapon.”  
In response the demon sent a spray of purple goo (he had been right) straight into Spike’s open mouth. He spluttered and coughed, dropping the box as his mouth burned. The purple octopus demon hit the ground and took off, squelching along the wet cement. Spike blinked. “Oi come back here,” he called. He took a step but the world began to spin and his head suddenly felt very heavy. He stumbled backwards as his vision blurred. His back hit the wall and he gripped onto the side of the dumpster to stay up right. The metal crunched down. “Oh bugger,” he said before he succumbed to unconsciousness and fell limp between two of the dumpsters, rain rolling off his coat in great swathes. Up the street, the demon, slithered onto the road and disappeared down the drain. 

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Buffy stared out forlornly at the chaos that was supposed to be the wedding. The demon was gone sure, but so was Xander. She was too wrapped up in the commotion of it all to notice the black figure, clearly not a guest, skulk along the wall and exit the (now cancelled) wedding venue.

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A few hours later, and not three blocks from the wedding, a small band of soldiers stood around a laptop. They stood in close formation, none wanting to be the next one to be called upon. Sam stood beside them, her heart racing. The Colonel hadn’t been happy to see her but she had been ordered to attend. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had been since she hadn’t been a part of the team that had failed their mission today. This team was new to Sunnydale and had taken up residence near The Magic Shop less than a week ago.  
“Colonel, you’re telling me,” the General said by way of a patchy skype connection. He was sitting in the same plain office as the last time Sam had seen him. “That we had Hostile 17 - in the middle of the day - in a wedding venue and our highly trained tactical team lost him?”

“Yessir,” the soldier said stiffly. “We completed a search of the premises and could not locate the target.” His eyes stayed staunchly locked on the screen, heedless of the silent circle of people who were also privy to this call.  
“There was all manner of demons in there that could explain his disappearance to the slayer and we forfeited the chance to end this.” The General’s face was red and his thick neck pulsed threateningly.  
“We had the sewer entrance covered, sir,” the Colonel defended quickly. “We hypothesise that he disappeared with one of the invited um…guests.”  
“Permission to speak, sir?” a voice said from beside the soldier. “I believe a scenario has been overlooked by the primary team.”  
“Who is that?” The General demanded, leaning forward towards the screen as if that would increase the scope of the camera. “Finn?”  
The Colonel looked over his shoulder angrily, his lips pursed and his eyes quite clearly telling Finn to stay well out of frame.  
“Yessir,” Finn said, ignoring her superior’s clear facial order and pushing her way forward. She raised her head; she wasn’t a fan of the Colonel and based on this interaction he wouldn’t be coming up in her esteem.  
“Finn wasn’t even there,” the soldier snapped, sneering at Sam as she took her place beside him.  
“But I have been invited to this meeting as I am the only one other than Ri-Finn, the other Finn,” she corrected, “Who has had contact with the targets and I can relay the expert insights of Riley Finn who as you are aware spent two years with the Hostile. With all due respect, you have only been in Sunnydale one week.”  
The soldier scoffed and Sam braced herself for his brash response, but he was hushed by the raised single finger of the General. “And what is it you suggest?”  
“That he walked out the front door,” Sam said simply.  
“At three o’clock in the afternoon?” the Colonel said snidely. “I hardly think that such a ridiculous idea is worthy of consideration. Might I remind you that Hostile 17 is a vampire.”  
Sam took a deep, calming breath. “You do not need to, Colonel Makey, no,” she said, “But it was overcast and raining, it is possible for Spike to stay out of direct sunlight and Finn says he is willing to walk in full sunlight if properly motivated.”  
The General seemed to consider this and literally chew on it. He looked back up at the screen and the two soldiers who shared the view. “So we let him walk away,” he stated bluntly. Finn and the other soldier stayed silent. “Not only did you fail in your primary mission to retrieve the demon dealer but you have compromised an ongoing investigation of the so called Hellmouth and its guardian.” The General sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m moving the time table up. The time for waiting is over, you have 72 hours to bring me Hostile 17 or evidence of his dispatchment. Dismissed.”  
The connection was unceremoniously terminated.  
The Colonel turned to Finn angrily. “I ordered you not to speak in this meeting.” His fists were clenched and he was near shaking.  
“Yes, Sir,” Sam said, her back straight and eyes forward. “I felt it was relevant information to the operation.”  
“This was my briefing and you deliberately undermined me.”  
Sam took a deep breath, her jaw as tightly clenched as his fist. “Yes, sir.”  
“Get out of my sight.”  
Sam turned and left, the other two men in the briefing following her out.  
“What a jerk,” one of them muttered as they passed Sam. Sam nodded with a scoff. 

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Buffy sat with a mug of hot chocolate on the back steps. The others had gone to bed, even Tara was staying, and now she was alone staring out in the dark. She picked up her cell phone and hit redial. It rang and rang before Xander chirped at her to leave a message and press hash. She snapped the phone closed not bothering to leave a message.  
“No sign of the runaway bride?” Spike asked, appearing suddenly by her side. Buffy jumped slightly, dropping her phone in her haste to bring her hand to her chest. “Sorry,” he said nonchalantly, dropping down beside her.  
Buffy sighed sadly. “He’s not answering, not even for Willow.”  
“Coward,” Spike spat. Buffy glared at him. “He is,” Spike insisted, “Letting some demon convince him he didn’t love demon girl? Cowardly.”  
“He still loves Anya,” Buffy defended, “Think it was more him he was afraid of…what he… might do.” She let him fill in the blanks. Spike wasn’t convinced.  
“So he should change, be better, that’s what you do,” Spike said. “You be what your partner needs.”  
Buffy raised her eyebrows, “Shouldn’t you be with someone who doesn’t want you to change? Someone who loves you for who you are?”  
“Bollocks,” Spike said, swatting away her words. “Fluff and fairytales, ain’t no way you can be with someone and not change. You just have to hope it’s for the better.”  
“And what if it’s not for the better?” Buffy asked softly.  
“Then you try harder.”  
“That simple?” Buffy asked sceptically.  
“That simple,” he confirmed.  
Buffy shook her head. She was about to reply but took a sip of her drink instead. She set it down beside her, her fingertip tracing the warm edge. Spike looked at her in slight frustration.  
“Glinda,” he set down. “Meek little thing she was when she first met Red. Wouldn’t say boo to a fly and now look at her. Bloody magnificent. You think there was any way she would be that without the witch?”  
Buffy stared at him and shrugged. “I-I don’t know,” she conceded softly. Spike nodded proudly, sure of his win. “But what if you don’t make each other better?”  
She let the weight of her words hang in the air. She didn’t break eye contact with him, and she could see him processing her words; see that he wanted to argue with her. “I’m better,” he said with conviction. “And you’re alive.”  
Buffy broke eye contact under the guise of grabbing her drink again and lifting it to her lips. She took a sip letting the chocolate swirl past her lips and the sugar hit her blood stream. She felt the thin coating of melted marshmallow settle on her top lip and licked it away.  
“You all set for tomorrow?” Spike asked, changing the subject.  
Buffy nodded. “Yep, confirmed with D'hoffryn before …everything…today.”  
“Good. I’ll meet you there, pretty sure I can get in.”  
“You don’t have to,” Buffy said, turning to face him full on. “They want you for some reason so it might be best if we don’t dangle you in front of them like a dog treat.”  
Spike reached up and cupped Buffy’s face, he leant forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m not leaving you to face them alone.” He kissed her again, the sweet taste of chocolate still on her lips. She pulled back suddenly.  
“Why are my lips burning?” she asked licking them and pushing her finger against her mouth. “Oh god it’s spreading.” She fanned her mouth.  
“Oh,” Spike said guilty. “Had a tussle with a wedding gift. Milk helps.”  
Buffy picked up her hot chocolate and chugged it. 

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“What are you doing?” Dawn asked suspiciously as she came downstairs and into the kitchen. Willow spun around from her place at the kitchen door, the curtain snapping back into place. Willow stumbled slightly in her haste to move away.  
“No-nothing,” she stuttered. She moved behind the kitchen island and picked up a tea towel. She swiped it along the clean bench top. “Wait! No!” she yelped as Dawn made her way to the window and peeked outside. She crinkled her nose as she watched Buffy smack Spike repeatedly on the arm. She let the curtain ago and turned back to Willow.  
“Are you spying on Buffy and Spike?”  
“No,” Willow said quickly. “I was just cleaning and getting an-an-“ she reached for the fruit bowl suddenly and picked up an apple with a large dent and fast growing mushy brown spot. “An apple for Tara because she was hungry. And now I have it so I’m going to go...upstairs.” She side stepped around the counter and walked backwards away from Dawn and rushed up the stairs.  
“Coz that’s not suspicious,” Dawn called after her. Dawn shook her head. “They all think I’m an idiot.” She muttered to herself.  
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